#if i other means to contact my mutuals i would be gone by now

[kicksnscribs]

About to start blocking people who claim that people are just ignoring shit being posted on this fucking site as if its a virtue to repost an un researched topic or issue without question.

[nadvs]

can we please have sleeping with the enemy rafe finally announcing to his friends (and max) that they’re dating now!! 😓😓 (ps. i LOVE your fanfics🤞)

thank you sm, love!! yes yes definitely 🥰 i had to make it super fluffy i had no choice

based on this fic, continuation of this blurb

after they eat a late lunch at an off-campus restaurant, rafe is relieved that she doesn’t ask him to drive her back to her dorm. now that they’ve put it into words, this mutual understanding that their friendship had at some point become much more, he hates the idea of being apart from her.

and once he realizes that, he also realizes he’s gone soft. because he used to never think stuff like that, like it would actually physically hurt to be away from somebody. but she’s the only one he thinks like this about. and now, he figures he can say this stuff out loud.

“you’re my favorite person to hang out with,” rafe says, his thumb tapping over the steering wheel once he starts up the car.

he cringes at himself. it still feels weird saying shit like that. they usually just crack jokes and tease each other. but when he looks over at her, at how bright her smile is, he knows he’s going to keep saying stuff like that until it feels normal, because it’s worth it if she’s going look at him like that.

he suggests they hang out at the house and she happily agrees. they’re curled up on the couch and while they used to always subconsciously be touching in some way, their contact is much more intentional now.

rafe has his arm around her as they sit together. her knees are drawn up to her chest. the sports channel is always on at the house. on the screen is an nfl player sitting behind a microphone at a post-game press conference.

“you’re gonna hate that,” she says. “the interviews.”

his body always buzzes when she talks like that, like him going pro is inevitable. he’s confident in his skills, but not nearly as sure as her that he’ll make it to the nba.

“you think?” he mumbles, playing along.

“yeah, because you have to be media trained and it will not take,” she teases. “like, imagine you were interviewed about yesterday’s game.”

he squints his eyes, indulging her, thinking back to the win his team secured.

“a reporter asks you what you thought of the other team’s offensive approach,” she says. “what would you say?”

“they played like little bitches.”

“see?” she says with a laugh. “you’d lose all your brand deals in a second.”

“you think i’ll get brand deals?”

“mhm. and lots of girls,” she adds.

“already used to that.”

she slaps his chest.

“i’m breaking up with you,” she jokes.

“so, you finally admit it,” a voice from the top of the stairs says. they look up to see one of the other four basketball players living in the house coming down the steps.

“what do you mean?” she laughs.

“that there’s a relationship to break up,” liam clarifies. “you’re not just friends.”

rafe sighs. liam is one of his friends who never stops fucking with him about how married he is to her. rafe has told him time and time again that they’re just friends.

“yeah, we’re not,” he answers.

“you’re not what?” liam says.

“just friends.”

liam just looks at the two of them as they sit on the couch, blinking slowly.

“wait, for real?” his teammate asks.

“yeah,” rafe nods.

“you’re not denying it?”

“no.”

“i don’t know what to do.” liam scratches his head. “i’ve never gotten this far. uh… finally? congratulations?”

“thanks,” she chimes in.

he looks at them for another few seconds.

“this isn’t a joke?” liam says.

“no,” she answers.

“wow,” he says. “what took so long?”

“you can leave now,” rafe tells him.

“cool.”

she laughs as liam turns and heads down the hallway. the conversation goes about the same way with every other housemate as the news spreads.

eventually, she dozes off in front of the tv. she’s curled up in a ball, her hand wrapped around his bicep, her cheek on his shoulder. he can’t help but take a photo from his vantage point.

when she wakes up, she tells him she should go home. he drives her to her dorm. on the way, she’s scrolling on her phone and sees he posted a story. he hardly ever posts anything.

it’s a photo of her taken just over her head, her eyes closed, lashes resting over her cheeks, hand wrapped around rafe’s arm. it’s a sweet, almost intimate photo.

“wow,” she teases. “you’re going to hard launch me just like that?”

“sure. whatever the fuck that means.”

she laughs.

“you know, guys tend to unknowingly post the worst pictures of their girlfriends,” she tells him. “but this really isn’t that bad.”

“no shit,” he says.

“what, it can’t be bad if you took it?” she guesses, rolling her eyes.

“it can’t be bad ‘cause it’s you.”

she glances over at rafe, watching the passing street lights glowing over his handsome face. is this the kind of stuff he’s been thinking and never saying out loud? they were always honest with each other, but she gets why he wouldn’t say things like that if he thought them. it’s so far from friend territory.

she’s determined to do the same thing. to go back to saying everything on her mind to him, instead of stopping herself from sharing her affectionate thoughts like she’s gotten used to doing.

they share a long kiss before she gets out of the car. when she makes it to her room, she reposts the photo on her story, his account clearly linked. just so there’s no confusion and simply because she’s so giddy, she captions it: boyfriends can take good pics sometimes?

it reminds her of the first night they hooked up and she posted a photo of him shirtless in her room.

eventually, everyone on her squad and every basketball player on the team, including her ex-boyfriend, view the story. it’s crazy how part of the reason she and rafe even got together was for revenge over him. she was shattered when max broke things off, but he inadvertently pushed her towards her best friend.

now, there’s no way anyone can misconstrue things. rafe is her boyfriend. and she’s proud of it.

so, she keeps her promise to herself. she won’t miss any opportunity to tell rafe how much she likes him. she texts him: i’m so so so glad i met you

he replies: only three so’s?

she texts: +5 more so’s

he replies: better

then, her phone buzzes again with a text from him: me too baby. you really are my favorite person

(continuation)

[grandline-fics]

Hi lovely, hope you’re doing well. If you feel like it, would you write Smoker not realizing he’s got a crush on you until Tashigi has to point it out? It seems so Them ™ thank you 🫰

DESCRIPTION: He has no idea he has a crush on you

WARNINGS: mutual pining/ crushes

CHARACTERS: Smoker

WORDS: 1,225

A/N: I was only intending on making this a short and sweet drabble but it went a little longer than that. Not that I'm complaining. I hope you like what I came up with for this and thank you for requesting.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

————————

Smoker is normally straightforward and very aware of his surroundings and those that are in his immediate vicinity. He likes his space immensely and rarely allows anyone to encroach in that personal bubble. Outside of attacking pirates, or training very few tend to be given the privilege of staying next to Smoker for more than a few seconds. Tashigi would be the one to stay next to Smoker the most given she was his second in command although an interesting development caught her eye that Smoker somehow failed to notice for himself. You. Ever since you were transferred to the G5 base she noticed more and more how you and Smoker had gotten closer, to the point that now as she watched the two of you talk in the hallway her keen eyes took in how Smoker’s arm was all but a hair’s breadth away from fully touching yours. 

By her observation that was practically the equivalent of anyone else straddling their lover's lap by Smoker’s standards. Her gaze took you both in and she fought back the giddy smile, her boss had a crush and endearingly, he had no idea of his feelings. For a while she was happy to just take the revelation in and enjoy it for herself, unable to give up the chance of a lifetime to see Smoker like this. It was like winning the lottery to see the gruff, almost socially distant, stoic leader show his softer side. Now that she was aware of the change that overcame Smoker when you were near, she couldn’t help but see it take effect instantly. 

When you talked with him about mission reports, changes in shifts, or engaging in general conversation, Smoker would keep intense eye contact with you, taking in everything you had to say but his eyes would soften just enough to unconsciously seem less intimidating. Tashigi found that you’d never shied away from Smoker’s presence that others would normally feel nervous around. If you didn’t have time to stop and talk, you and Smoker still made sure to smile-albeit a small one on Smoker’s end- and offer a courtesy nod before continuing on your separate ways. Tashigi spotted out of the corner of her eye that as you passed by one day that Smoker’s head followed you for just a second. That day Tashigi decided to put Smoker’s feelings for you clearly into perspective. As she inspected the debrief of the upcoming mission that afternoon, she began the conversation by stating your name. As expected, Smoker’s head turned towards her curiously. “You going to say goodbye to them before we leave?”

“I’d be here all day if I said goodbye to everyone that wasn’t coming on the same mission as me, Tashigi.” Smoker stated with a confused frown, eyeing his second in command warily. “Did you get enough sleep last night?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then why the strange question?”

“Dunno just thought, you might want to say goodbye.” Tashigi shrugged with a playful smile. “We will be gone for at least a month. Won’t you miss them?”

“Tashigi…” Smoker abandoned the papers on his desk and turned in his seat to look at her, unwilling to indulge her antics. Especially if she was bringing you into the conversation. “Just say whatever it is you want to say so I can actually get on with my work.”

“Fine. You like them and before you say ‘they’re an asset to the base’ I mean you like them. Romantically.” Smoker blinked at Tashigi and she could see the gears turning in his head as her statement was being processed. The expression alone made her wish she had pointed it out to him sooner. Still, Smoker was a stubborn man and even with her nudging him towards the revelation, she needed to continue to really drive the point home before he could dismiss it. “I can see the way you look at them, and seek them out to talk to. They like you too y’know?”

Smoker couldn’t help but tense at that. An almost hopeful jolt ran through him involuntarily but even then he was reluctant to believe that you held a romantic interest in him the same way that he had for you. Now that Tashigi had pointed it out to him, he felt somewhat foolish that he hadn’t realised his own feelings on his own. He wasn’t a child and he wasn’t some lovesick teenager either but out of fear of sounding like one he refused to ask Tashigi how she knew you would reciprocate his feelings. Instead he gave a noncommittal grunt and quickly looked to the papers on his desk again. Tashigi grinned broadly and used all of her will to keep her voice even and calm when she was all but squealing on the inside. “The next time you go to talk to them, watch how their eyes light up. Perhaps if you went to say goodbye before our mission you’d see?”

The was a moment of silence as Smoker continued to stare at the papers but not reading them. Then with a curse he stood abruptly and headed towards the door. “Only because you won’t shut up about it.” 

“Whatever you say, sir.” Tashigi nodded, watching Smoker leave with the most satisfied smile on her face. As much as she would have loved to have follow close behind and see the next part for herself, she decided to give Smoker his space out of fear of pushing her luck with interfering into his personal life even though sometimes he sorely needed the obvious being pointed out for him.

Smoker strode down the corridors, seemingly doing his routine patrols before having to set off on the mission when really he was hoping to coincidentally run into you. He turned the corridor sharply just as you came from the opposite direction. Your body collided with his and instinctively Smoker’s hands firmly caught your shoulders, keeping you from falling. You let out a nervous laugh and looked up at him, an embarrassed warmth spreading over your face as you stared at your boss. “Sorry! I should really look where I’m going right?”

“No harm done on my end.” Smoker mused, taking Tashigi’s advice to observe your face as you spoke to him, to really watch your eyes. 

“Just as well.” You joked, smiling brightly as you met his gaze with only warmth as opposed to the use caution the others on the base would. “Last thing you need is an injury before going on a mission.” At that you seemed almost disappointed. Smoker tried to keep his expression neutral at the prospect that you’d miss him. “Jero said it was going to be a long one?”

“A month is the estimate.”

“A month…” Your smile lessened slightly before you mentally lectured yourself. This was how it went. Missions could range from a couple days to nearly a year, even longer. “I wish you a successful mission, Vice Admiral. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Promise?” The word was out of his mouth before he really considered the implication the weight behind it would be. Smoker momentarily got lost in the way surprise lit your eyes and how your lips slowly spread into a smile far brighter than he’d yet to see grace your face before. 

“I promise.”

----------------------------------------------

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[fizzyxcustard]

Those Hands.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Insecurity, comparison, angst, sexual references, mutual pining, idiots in love.

Comments/Notes: From the imagine, "Imagine that Thorin is in love with you (from the race of Men) but constantly compares his body and features with other men, thinking you find him disgusting." Requested by multiple readers and anons. (THANK YOU!)

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Thorin watched every little interaction that you had with other males, whether they be Dwarves, Men or Elves. He couldn’t help but watch you blush, avert eye contact and use self-soothing gestures, such as touching your face, curling your hair with your fingers, or rubbing your upper arms. 

Since Thorin had been crowned King of Erebor, and re-building was underway, many people visited the mountain. Bard came from Esgaroth, often meeting with Thorin in council, to discuss trade deals and assistance in building. Much to Thorin’s distain, Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, also came. Again, he joined the council to converse around the subject of trade deals in precious metals and gemstones.  

Your relationship with Thorin was entirely built on trust. The two of you had been companions out on the road during the quest to re-take Erebor. He had always valued your opinion, spoke with you in private, and kept you close to him on his council of advisors. Erebor was now your home, despite you being of the race of Men. Your family were all gone, meaning that the Dwarves had now taken that place, welcoming you into the fold and treating you as one of their own. 

One morning, council was busy. Neldra, one of the kitchen staff, was on hand with jugs of cold drinks and pots of tea. Then once all the drinks were laid out neatly on intricately laced doilies, she came back with a trolley of fresh pastries. 

The smell was divine; you took an inhale and let the scent overtake you. Apple and cinnamon were among the selection: your favourite. 

You reached out to take one of the pastries, only to feel another hand graze yours. “I apologise,” a voice came, from the direction of the hand. 

It was Bard, from two seats down to your right hand side, who had stretched across to grab one of Neldra’s famous delicacies. “It was no bother,” you replied. “You first.” 

“Ladies first. I insist.” 

Thorin’s blue eyes studied the scene going on before him. No one else had noticed the exchange between you and Bard. Upon the impact of yours and Bard’s hands, Thorin felt a jolt in his chest. It rose up into his throat, and he closed his eyes for a brief second. The red hot sensation bore into him, feeling as if it were forming a hole straight through him. Upon opening his eyes, Thorin looked at his hands, then glanced across to Bard’s. The man’s hands were broad, but his fingers long and slender. Very much unlike Thorin’s. The Dwarf King’s fingers were short and bulky, with stubby ends. Surely Bard’s hands would have the dexterity and skill to caress your skin, drawing shivers from you. A Dwarf’s hands would be too calloused and thick to evoke any kind of pleasurable sensation upon a woman from the race of Men. 

Chatter continued, along with eating and drinking. In that time, Thorin tried his hardest to push the negative thoughts from his mind, and concentrate on the conversation at hand, which involved the realms of Erebor and Esgaroth exchanging skilled workers and apprentices. 

Thranduil was also present and merely rolled his eyes as the conversation got underway between Bard and Thorin. The Elven King did not like to waste his time, and being in this council meant that there were stints of time where his input was not needed. 

“Would you like another drink?” you asked Thranduil, picking up the nearest china pot of tea. 

“I would much prefer wine, but since I’m not within my realm, I would not say no.”

Thorin’s gaze darted over to Thranduil, and then to you. He saw you brush a piece of hair behind your ear, and then look up at the Elven King sat opposite you. Your ears were small, with one golden hoop earring in each lobe. Then Thorin looked at Thranduil’s ears; pointed at the tip, finely structured. They weren’t big, round and sticking out. Thorin’s ears were ugly, and thankfully he could keep them hidden under his long hair. Secretly, he had always imagined you whispering against them, your lips brushing them. It made Thorin shiver. 

Once council had concluded, Thorin left the chamber and headed back to the royal wing. Once inside and he stood in front of his full length dress mirror, staring at the protruding ears on the side of his head. Then he studied his large hands, thinking back to Bard’s. 

The males from the races of Men and Elves made you blush in a way that Thorin never had. Their bodies were more finely crafted, which complemented yours. They had finer features with smaller noses and brows. 

Thorin shifted back and sat on his bed, his hands in his lap. He took one more glance at them, feeling disgusted at what he saw. They would never be good enough for you. None of his body would ever be good enough for you. Everything about him was oversized, not delicate and handsome like Bard and Thranduil. Both of them had lost their wives, and may have wished to re-marry, so they would make better husbands for you. 

***

The following day and Thorin was sat in the council room, signing documents. His quill scratched loudly against the parchment. 

You walked in, holding a further stack of documents in your hands. “These should be the last ones,” you said, offering a smile. 

Thorin looked up at you. No blush on your face to be seen. 

“Is everything alright?” you asked. There was something in his eyes, a thoughtfulness. Maybe even a sadness. You sat down in an empty seat next to Thorin. “What’s wrong?” On impulse, you placed your hand on top of his. 

Thorin looked at your hands, watching your thumb gently caress his knuckle. How huge his hand looked against yours. But how right it felt, as if the size did not matter, and they were still able to fit together as one. 

“There is nothing wrong,” Thorin said, forcing a weak smile. “I hear that Bard is leaving this afternoon. Will you not be wishing him farewell?” 

“I barely know him,” you replied. “I’d feel it strange to do so.” 

“Would you wish to get to know him?” 

“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“Surely you find him handsome,” Thorin continued, pulling the new stack of documents over towards him. 

“Not really. Can’t say I do. There’s some reason to you asking this, Thorin.” 

“Why would I have any reason?” 

“There’s always a reason to anything that you ask. I know you enough by now. Talk to me. You’ve always given me more trust than I deserve, and never questioned me liked this before.” 

Thorin took a deep inhale and looked at you, dropping his quill. “Who do you find handsome? If not Bard, maybe Thranduil?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Why ever would you think I’m attracted to King Thranduil?” The whole idea was so comical that you couldn’t help but keep giggling. “It takes….” You couldn’t stop the giggling. “A special….kind of woman….to…..” 

Thorin also began to chuckle, watching your face turn red in amusement and delight. His heart somehow felt lighter as he watched you, and that overwhelming love for you rose. It was a love that would allow him to do anything to make you happy. It was a love that would make him sacrifice his very life to keep you safe. It was sacrificial and unconditional. 

You could see the glow in Thorin’s eyes and the smile which curled his lips upwards. He was the one you found handsome, above all others. The intensity in his eyes made butterflies swarm in your stomach. His proud presence caused you to shiver whenever he entered a room. His voice was enough to make your imaginations travel to another place where only the two of you were, locked away in comfort, pursuing wondrous pleasure. 

You edged closer to Thorin. “You said you want to know who I find handsome?” 

Thorin’s heart was hammering now and he was sure that you would be able to hear it. 

“It’s you.” Your voice was a whisper. “It’s always been you. How could it not be you? Why would you ever think I’d be attracted to Bard and Thranduil?” 

Thorin closed his eyes in embarrassment. “My features and body are not like theirs.” 

“So why would that not make you handsome?” 

“My hands…” 

“Your hands?” you giggled. This time a blush did hit your cheeks, and it was even more vivid than it had ever been when in the company of any other man. “You have found out my secret.” 

“What secret?” Thorin asked, shifting ever so slightly closer to you. He had never wanted you any more than he did in those moments. The very thought that it was him that you found handsome was making his whole being rise, but anticipation was now racing down his spine in shivers. 

“I have had a fantasy for some time now, since meeting you, of what you could do to me with those hands,” you said, biting your lip. 

Thorin couldn’t hold back any more and moved even closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek. His breath was elevated and his eyes were sparkling with so much joy, but slight fear. 

His lips crashed against yours and you both groaned upon impact. Within seconds and the kiss had grown deep, your tongues both meeting. You couldn’t help but whimper as Thorin’s lips left yours and trailed down your neck. His beard tickled your skin and then as he grew more impatient, you could feel the tickle become a bristling, sharp sensation. Your hands became lost in his hair as he nuzzled at your neck, groaning and grunting. 

Thorin felt your fingertips brush over his ears, and it drew an overwhelming shiver from his very core. 

“I love you, Thorin,” you said again. “Now show me what you can do with those hands.” 

***

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[inuyashaluver]

Can you make an alexia Putellas one please x

friendly affection? - alexia putellas

alexia putellas x reader

description: in which your childhood friend is extremely affectionate with you, you can’t help but wonder, is it friendly, or does it have a double meaning?

warnings: mutual pining, just idiots in love, spanish is in bold italics - i’m not butchering languages, i refuse!

a/n: hiiii, hope you enjoy, thank you for the request! xx also the photo of her - died

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you have been best friends with alexia ever since the spanish youth teams. meeting when she was 12 and you 11. you and alexia had gone through everything together, the both of you best friends through thick and thin.

everything had always been strictly platonic, though you did feel some sort of romantic feelings towards her, only strengthening as you got older and closer. if only you knew alexia had feelings for you since the first time she saw you. both of you would do anything for her and her, you. you knew each other like the back of your hands, how did you not realise the both of you liked each other?

as you both got older, for the first time ever, you separated. her going to levante when you went to barcelona, you both kept in contact and visited each other frequently, the time separated making you both realise just how much you cared about each other and just how much you needed the other.

both of you had established quite a reputation, alexia in the midfield and you as a winger. both of you were so proud of each other. alexia called you one day, saying that she had exciting news.

“amor (love), i’m coming to barca” you went silent on the line. “amor? (love)” she kept calling your name until she heard little sounds of crying through the other side of the phone. “osito (little bear)” she coos, you cry more at the nickname, something that stuck from your childhood when you tackled a girl for hurting alexia, alexia claimed you were like a bear.

“i’m so happy, ale” you sniff, alexia choking up herself, both of you were so excited to finally play together again.

“me too, osito (little bear), i’ve signed the contract already, i’m just looking for a house right now” she could tell you were fidgeting through the phone,

“hey, ale?”

“yes, amor?”

“why don’t you move in with me? i have a spare bedroom” she giggles,

“i’d love nothing more” you could tell she was smiling through her words, you both continued the call just catching up and planning the upcoming arrival of your best friend.

—

and so, a month later, you were at the airport waiting for her, flowers in hand and a bright smile on your face. finally, a short while later, you spot the blonde looking at you with a bright smile. you both slowly walk towards each other and meet in the middle with a tight embrace. she holds onto your waist and lifts you in the air for a second before placing you back down. she pulls away from you, keeping her arms around you but distancing you at arm's length.

“mi amor (my love), look at you!” she smiles brightly, looking at you up and down, “so beautiful” you go bright red, avoiding eye contact with her. “you’re beautiful ale, here muñeca (doll)” you hold the flowers out to her and she grins brightly, ruffling your hair lightly, she links her arms with yours and tells you she’s ready to go home - your new shared home.

—

you give her a general tour, showing her all the rooms before coming to hers, already furnished and directly across from yours. you let her settle in, going to sit on the couch and watching a random movie while scrolling on your phone. about an hour later, alexia strolls in the room, now in comfortable clothes. “stand up please” she instructs sternly, you look up at her confused but oblige, moving to stand up while looking at her mischievous expression.

she walks up to you, lightly squeezing your bicep as she moves past you, lying flat on the couch and smiling up at you. she outstretches her hand and with the other pats her chest, gesturing for you to lie on top of her. you giggle at her actions, grabbing her hand and gently slotting yourself into her embrace. as soon as you lay on top of her, she runs her hand through your hair and the other rests on your back.

you place your chin on her chest, looking up at her and humming at the intimacy. you frequently embraced each other like this, always thinking of it platonically but yearning for any underlying romance, both of you were truly so clueless.

she looks down at you and smiles, “i really missed you osito (little bear)” you smile back, placing your hand on the side of her waist, she slightly shivers when your finger grazes the exposed skin of her stomach where her top had ridden up.

“i’ve missed you so much”, both of you end up falling asleep, completely enjoying each other’s presence.

—

a week later, it was alexia’s first day at barca, you drive (she’s not happy about this) to the training facility, as soon as you gather all your stuff and get out of the car, alexia holds your hand, something you both frequently did while walking in crowded areas or when you were nervous. (hopeless the pair of you!)

you introduced her to everyone, she knew the majority of everyone, from the youth teams as well as through you when she came to visit. everyone was so excited to have la reina (the queen) in barca. you were having a team talk before training began, she moved to stand behind you, wrapping her arms around your middle and bringing you to her chest, resting her head on the side of yours, lightly swaying you both. a few of the girls gave you curious looks, many of them whispering to each other about whether you two were dating or not.

the entire time during training, you and alexia were glued to each other, pairing up for drills, stretching, running and things just got worse during the gym. alexia asked if you could spot her on the bench press and you agreed instantly, she didn’t even need you to spot, fully able to support the weight on her own, she wanted to give you a show. her arms and shoulders flexing as she lifted the weight up, you went slightly pink watching her, she smirked up at you. she knew what she was doing, and this is how alexia realised that maybe her best friend had the same intentions.

—

as time goes on, both of you are the same. ‘platonic’. however, the more time you spent with alexia, the more you fell for her, unaware that she felt exactly the same. you were both infatuated with each other but scared of ruining the relationship and potentially losing each other. so both of you chose to suffer.

alexia and your reputation on the pitch only got higher and higher. alexia scored goals left, right and centre. you giving her so many assists and scoring your own occasionally. you were known for creating opportunities for everyone in the team, but you just knew alexia so well, you couldn’t help but try to make her proud and get her a goal. no matter if you gave her the assist, she would come and find you first, always hoisting you up on her waist and squeezing your thighs while you cup her face and say “congratulations” and kiss her forehead.

when she looks into your eyes, she’ll always say “my girl” and each time, you can’t help but squeeze her waist with your thighs to show your appreciation. whenever you get a goal however, she’ll run over to you and pull you into a tight hug, placing tiny pecks on whatever exposed skin available. (how were you both so clueless)

—

one day, you were half asleep in your bed until you hear a melodious knock on the other side of your door, “amor? (love) can i come in?” she whisper shouts, like the knock wouldn’t have woken you up if you were asleep.

“ale, come in” she smiles seeing you bundled up in one of your (her) hoodies, you were peering at her from the top of the covers, only your eyes visible to her. she lets out an exhale from her nose and walks over to you, sitting on the end of your bed and looking straight at you while she grabs your leg over your thick blankets.

“do you mind if i sleep with you tonight? i’m cold” she smiles sheepishly at you, you instantly nod and tap the space next to you but she shakes her head, you quirk your eyebrow at her.

“bebé (baby) that’s my side” she nudges her head towards where you were and you let out a groan of frustration. rolling your body over to the other side of the bed and wincing, “ale” you stretch out, “this side is cold!” you whine, she laughs at you and quickly gets under the covers, immediately grabbing your waist and pulling you close to her, facing each other with shy smiles.

you had shared a bed before but never cuddled. this was new, and both of you loved it.

you place a hand on her back, resting it there to keep her close to you, her warmth permeating through your body. she looks down at you, slotting a hand through your hair and finally resting it on your cheek, rubbing the skin there. she looked at you with so much adoration, you couldn’t handle it anymore. you slightly sit up, balancing on one of your elbows and looking down at her, her hand dropping in the process to rest on your upper arm.

she looks at you confused, thinking you were about to kick her out until you lean down and place a short, sweet kiss on her lips. you pull away quickly, she didn’t kiss you back. you rip yourself out of her embrace and separate yourself from her, still close but distant.

“ale- i’m so sorry” you shake your head at her, hands covering your face. she grabs your hands from your face, both of you completely red.

“you’re so mean to me” you look at her with wide eyes, “i wanted to kiss you first, why would you do that to me?” she whines, smile still evident on her face.

“what-?”

“that was my plan, i was literally about to kiss you and you did it first!” she argues, you couldn’t believe this,

“how was i supposed to know?” you exclaim,

“don’t you see how i look at you, i also touch you all the time”

“i thought you were being friendly!” she laughs loudly at this and your eyes widen

“bebé (baby), do you see me touching anyone else like that?” suddenly you’re thinking about how alexia interacts with everyone, finding yourself stupid for not realising it sooner.

“i feel so stupid-” she stops you immediately, “stop it, first of all, you’re not stupid, bebé (baby), i should have said something sooner” you shake your head to argue but she holds her finger up to her lips, silencing you.

“sorry, i can’t have this, mi amor (my love), no, come here” she sits against the headboard of your bed, tapping her lap and looking at you eagerly. you hesitantly move from your place, moving to straddle her thighs but not putting any of your weight on your legs. she frowns at you and puts her hands on your hips, pressing you into the upper part of her thighs and smiling at you.

“much better bebé (baby)” she mocks, “now, let me kiss you and pretend i did it first” she looks into your eyes for any reluctance but your grin gives her the green light. she leans forward and places her mouth on yours, at first the kiss is slow. your lips moving together harmoniously as she cups your face in one hand and the other on your waist, you keep your hands resting on her neck.

the kiss was perfect, both of you pouring out years of pent up deprivation and affection. without breaking the kiss, she drops her hand from your face and places both hands on your hips, pulling you closer and pressing you into her slightly. she gently grazes her teeth on your bottom lip and you gasp, she takes this as an entry and includes her tongue in the kiss, you reciprocating quickly, grabbing the back of her neck to deepen it. you put both of your hands on her shoulder, struggling to breathe, you reluctantly pull away. you pant while looking at her, resting your forehead on hers. she runs her hands up and down the sides of your waist while you both catch your breath, letting out small giggles in the process - not believing this was actually happening.

you take your forehead off hers and look at her, placing a gentle kiss on her lips again, placing two more on her cheeks, one on her nose and finally one on her forehead, your favourite place to kiss her, well…now demoted to second.

she smiles brightly when you pull away, “now who kissed first, hermosa (beautiful)?”

“me, amor (love)” you reply cheekily and yelp as she playfully pinches the side of your waist, moving to squish both of your cheeks together to form a pout, placing a small kiss there. she shakes her head at you, “try again” she smirks and places her hands on your thighs, running her hands up and down them , “alexia putellas kissed me first” she gives you a quick peck again, “my smart girl”.

you don’t move from your position, she kept pulling you close to her and claiming she was cold, knowing both of you were completely warm now. you cup her face with one of your hands,

“what are we ale?”

“i don’t know about you but you’ve been my girl since 12” she boops your nose with her finger, smiling as you lightly scrunch it up,

“i’ve always been yours, ale”

“i’ve always been yours, mi amor (my love)”

you both sleep well that night, cuddling and mutually having the best sleep of your lives. everyone at training was confused by you this time, not alexia. you couldn’t keep your hands off her, always needing to be touching her in some way. you two were shamelessly flirting with each other and touching each other. alexia was loving all the affection you were giving her. learning just how much of an effect you had on her.

for instance, if you wanted something from her, all you needed to do was run your hand up and down her arm, looking up at her with a smile and calling her ‘capitana (captain)’. she was done for. and with you…well, all she needed to do was be herself and you would do anything for her. maybe a little more when she would lean down to your ear to speak sweet nothings when you were grumpy.

everyone’s dating suspicious were proven when you assist alexia in a goal, as usual, hoisting you up on her waist and looking up at you, “my girl” this time, however, you place a sweet kiss on her lips, everyone cheering loudly for their favourite dynamic duo. “my girl” you say back, hugging her tightly before continuing the game.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

just pretend it’s you, mwah! ily jenni

liked by ona.batlle and 44,232 others

alexiaputellas: 7 years of you pissing me off, still love you @/yourname

view all comments

yourname: hmm i still kissed you first, i love you

↳ alexiaputellas: see this is you pissing me off, can’t believe i proposed to you

↳ yourname: you’re stuck with me mami

↳ alexiaputellas: oh?

claudiaapina: parents!

marialeonn16: you guys are cute but ingrid and me are cuter

↳ alexiaputellas: whatever helps you sleep at night!

[savagewildnerness]

O Earthly Lestat, I see now the trouble I’m going to have with S3 is I may have to defend Nicolas a lot…. And I don’t even know how he’ll be written for TV. But I know he means too much to me, and that’s just that. In a way Nicolas means the most to me. Not that he means more to me than Lestat. But that the elements of Nicolas that I relate to (& importantly as you can never get over this feeling - that I related to as a 12-year-old) I cannot think of any other instance in literature or any other fictional character I could relate to or who so exactly articulated something about me. And so I cannot help but always fight for Nicki 100% (even though I am not like Nicki in all ways.)

I want to CLARIFY! This is not some “Nicolas was Lestat’s actual great love” point of view in ANY WAY! LOUIS, is Lestat’s great love!

But this is: Nicolas loved Lestat. It wasn’t only Lestat who loved Nicki. And Nicolas loving Lestat enabled Lestat to love Louis.

I find it beautiful. YES, Nickistat ended AWFULLY! (And that there was mutual love makes it all the more tragic and beautiful to me!) But I just need to say here…

People acknowledge how much of Louis’ words in IWTV are shaded by his own struggles…. So I can’t understand why so many people seem to take Nicolas’ words in his final argument with Lestat (by which point, with whatever nuance you cut it, Nicolas is as described by EVERYONE as a mad vampire, his mind lost!) as 100% his always-truth!!!?! I just cannot comprehend it!!!?! I’d love if anyone would like to explain how you can see it that way, especially after reading the actual way Nicolas was pre-Paris, in Paris, when Lestat was stolen away… all until the moment he witnesses Lestat be shot. THEN it shifts for Nicki!

I’m also not one for blaming Armand for Nicki’s demise. The tragedy of Nicolas is, Lestat is very responsible for Nicolas’ demise, and simultaneously all Lestat did, he did through love. There are a thousand ways Nicki’s tragic demise is Shakespearean inevitable resonance… and yet…

But yeah, it’s actually primarily because of his music & things around his music that Nicki matters so much to me. But nevertheless, he matters & I shall fight for him!!! Lestat and Nicki's conversation matters deeply to me too, and what Nicki is for Lestat in that conversation. But where I connect with Nicki is in his music and how he feels about his music. I personally connect with Lestat's worldview on the other hand. Although in my personality, I am my self, of course, I also relate to some elements of each of them.

The thing with Nicolas I suppose for me though is there are various aspects of his self I relate to that I have never felt anywhere else except in my own self. Not in fiction & not in anyone I have ever known in reality either. And I guess that’s why I will always fight for him. Also, because most people should understand Lestat - we’re so in his heart & head 💛. But we don’t hear the story from Nicolas’ point of view, yet for me, at times it is like he is absolutely in my own mind & heart or I am in his, or it’s the same thing in some odd way I can’t quite articulate. I feel seen by him, and I see him. I understand some parts of him, reflecting how by existing in fiction, he has understood me.

Back to Nicolas. He kept Lestat’s dressing room at Renaud’s as a literal shrine to Lestat. He fought with his friends over Lestat’s moral integrity after Lestat went missing. Even when Lestat was gone, Nicki was still loving him, fighting for him, staying at Renaud’s, wearing rings Lestat sent him. If he felt as he said in his final argument, why did Nicolas even stay working at Renaud's at all? Why was Nicolas so distressed when Lestat sent him lots of money and gifts but didn't ever contact him?

I just list these things, which are just a few ways we see Nicki's feelings through his concrete actions. Nicolas truly did resent Lestat in the end. Just as Lestat couldn’t stand the sight of vampire Nicolas. But even that doesn’t negate love.

Mortal Nicolas DESPERATELY needed Lestat’s light. Vampire Nicki doesn’t. And I see his cruelty in the final argument (while not being entirely absent of truth) as being partly founded in love…. Nicki knows the dark thing he now is & he knows, even in his addled mind Lestat won’t leave him… and he knows Lestat. He knows Lestat must leave him or he’ll take Lestat to his death with him.

It’s ok that love was once & isn’t eternal. It’s ok that Nicki’s love for Lestat did exist, but turned to hate & yet was never entirely lost. It’s ok that Lestat’s love for Nicki never diminished even though he couldn’t stand the sight of him as a vampire. These things don’t negate love. Hate can be part of love. It’s ok that their worldviews were fundamentally different. It’s ok they were not each other’s eternal loves. There was love. Deep and mutual love.

As I see it, we can accept & enjoy that they BOTH loved each other, and that fact only deepens Loustat.

By which time, Nicolas is long dead.

But I genuinely believe when they were mortal, Nicolas’ love for all of Lestat (even when envying him too!) meant Lestat could later love the all of Louis so unconditionally, as he had been loved that way before.

It’s an unpopular opinion, I know. But it’s mine. I express it with acknowledgment I can’t be objective about Nicolas. But that doesn’t lessen the strength of my truth!

In all honesty… we are all subjective humans. Can we be objective about any fictional character we have an emotional connection with?

And that’s the crux of it: when you CARE so much, ultimately it’s about whatever truth you need.

Maybe we ought to think on this on all of our favourite characters & imagine how it might apply to others for any character we love less unconditionally ourselves…?

[grandlinedreams]

Notes: we're so back, baby. October poured a whole soup can of horny into my brain, I'm literally just dumped names into a randomizer, so eat up @caffrey-coffee and @shadowleaf10 it's ya boy

Kinktober Day 2: Mutual Masturbation; Dick Grayson

Warnings: MNDI, mutual masturbation, reader is gender neutral, Dick has a mouth on him wbk

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

"You could have said no," comes the counter, amused as your boyfriend rearranges things with the rustle of sheets and soft creak of bedsprings. "You agreed to this."

"Because I miss you," you mumble, and Dick's expression softens, baby blues made softer for the dim glow of his room. Where he is, you have no idea -- he couldn't say. Wouldn't say, for his safety and yours.

"I miss you too," he says, and because he's, well, him, his eyes flick over you shamelessly as he adds, "all of you."

Your eyes roll. "I can hang up--"

"I'll behave, I promise!" There's a glint to his eyes. "For now." He pauses for a moment, then swallows. "Can I tell you about a dream I had?"

It's a little bit of an awkward segway, but you allow it as you shift your own positioning. Any other time, this would be weird as all hell-- but any other time, Dick would actually be with you, and not on an assignment from the Bat himself.

Dick waits until you're both comfortable before he starts talking again. "It was a good dream," he says. "We both had the whole day to ourselves. I got to keep you in bed for a good while. Then the shower, the bedroom again, the kitchen..."

You shiver at the image that he's beginning to paint, the deliberate skim of your hand over your bare chest, your abdomen. Soft skin, warm and plush, flushed as you drop your hand lower. "Was I good for you?"

"Very." There's a quiet huff, the little edge to his voice that you know means he's already touching himself. "Let me fill you up as much as I wanted, till I was dripping out of you."

Your hips twitch, and you hiss at the first contact of your fingers to heated flesh. Dick has gone quiet for a moment before he groans.

"Wish that were my hand instead of yours."

"Me too," you offer breathlessly, fingers working the way you know gets you riled up faster. "When you get back, maybe -- ah -- maybe we can put that little fantasy into reality, hm?"

A hushed curse, the unmistakable slick, sticky sound of his hand moving, matching your own. "Gonna hold you to it. Make sure you can't walk for days."

The next couple of moments are broken by staccato breathing, whines, and bitten off groans. "You always feel better around me than my own hand," Dick pants. "Especially when you squeeze around me and make that noise, you know the one--"

Your back arches, garbled noise pitching a little higher, needier-- and Dick moans.

"That one. Gonna have to record it someday, I swear."

It's Dick who comes first as you lock onto him from the computer you've nestled on your bed, expression contorting as he grunts, bucking into his hand -- and then spilling over his fingers in pretty pearlescent spurts. You follow a moment later, aware that Dick is still watching, cheeks flush and chest heaving.

"That's an expression I miss a lot too," he says as you come down, and he has the audacity to smirk when you stare. "What? Being honest."

"Pervert."

"How is it perversion when you're mine anyways?" He asks, but his expression softens. "I just miss you. A lot."

Your heart stutters. "I miss you too." There's a little quiet lapse as you both clean up, clothes tugged back into place before you curl up in bed to stare at him for a little longer. "Gonna dream of you."

This time, there isn't a smirk or a lewd comment, but the soft affection reserved just for you. "Me too, angel."

[deluweil]

Thanks for your response to that other anon about Tommy; you’re totally right. I also was intrigued, even liked him and Buck after their first kiss. But his closet comment and behavior on their first date, like he didn’t care that Buck has LITERALLY just figured out his bisexuality and that’s A LOT to process, his dismissive attitude towards Buck’s ideas and feelings (the bachelor party henley, the “enjoy it while it lasts” at the medal ceremony)….and then add in the way some fans have gone 0 to 100 on them so quickly, even calling them endgame, and likely at least in part JUST because it’s two men…it’s become such a turn off. I was neutral, even wanted to like them at first, but now am counting the days until it ends. And it’s not because I’m a BoB or would dislike any Buck LI that isn’t Eddie. And I don’t agree with anyone getting HATE (we can sideeye and judge people’s actions ($cameos$) But I think seeing Buck in a canon male/male relationship has caused some people to lose their damn minds. Ship and let ship! Stay in your sandbox, we’ll stay in ours!

LOL I am so removed from all the crowing bummies that I have to ask wth is BoB?

I actually went to look it up and found some interesting options, I am going with this one:

"Bob" is a generic and common name, and using it can be a way of avoiding formalities or creating a relaxed and approachable atmosphere

If you have the other meaning go ahead and tell me, like bummies I understand what benefits me in the moment😂

I kinda wish ppl will look up the meaning of "comphet" (I actually looked it up) that Ryan keeps bringing up in his interviews - that way ppl can stop saying crap things about him being the one to derail Eddie-T because he was supposedly against it. - Which is bullshit, Tim repeatedly said it was because the Natalia actress couldn't come back and M actress could. - Also, Originally T was supposed to be Lucy, she just couldn't come back so they took Lou in a pinch, so Obviously the endgame sure as shit wasn't the pilot.

And you're right, T's attitude was condescending at best, I was talking about it with a mutual the other day, and said that if they really had an interest to build BT properly, also by the time they came up with BT they knew they were being renewed for S8, they could have slowed into this. Actually make Buck's coming out story, a coming out story, not "So first date was a bust, how bout you come to my sister's wedding?" like who does that?

They could have started as friends with Lou being a gay guru, they could have had private dates until Buck was actually out to everyone and ready to be seen in public.

There could have been feelings involved that developed over time.

I gave the example of Tim-Ashley vs Nolan-Bailey from The Rookie, while Ashley was fairly kept to the background (btw she got more screen time than T, just saying) while Bailey was constantly and still being weaved into the story, intricated into Nolan's life, because he was meant to end up with her.

What ppl, who seem to have never watched good tv in their lives, don't seem to understand is that there is a way to write a story, and 911 not only screwed up spectacularly with Buck and Eddie's storylines, but they managed to make it clear from the get go that any LI to come along would be written just bad enough for it to be clear that they are not lasting.

Even furious, Eddie never walked away from Buck. Even when Buck was an asshole in 2x01, Eddie stood his ground and insisted they sort it through making it clear that they are on the same side, that he cares about him and wanting to be his friend. - His partner, a team.

Tommy, like all his predecessors, walked away as soon as something didn't fit his little comfort zone. Tommy walked away on that first date, he didn't contact Buck after that, Buck had to make contact and apologize for not being comfortable on his first date with a guy, like how messed up is that?

And Tommy's little acid retort in front of Eddie in the restaurant before that? From the side it's hilarious for someone who was never in that position. It was mean and uncalled for, but not exactly a surprise because T was never much of am understanding person, he was pretty much an ass from the get go in S2, only difference now is that he is out of the closet.

How did Athena put it when Michael first brought his new bf home after they got divorced? "If Michael had cheated on me with a woman, no one would have expected me to slap on a fake smile and welcome her into my home."

And that is exactly what the GA expects us to do, so what if Buck injured Eddie for attention? He's bi now.

So what if T was an ass and pretty much dismissive towards Buck and talks to him often in a bored way like one talks to a child? He's gay now.

A certain sexual preference does not excuse bad behavior. A person's behavior is supposed to be taken at face value, and not excused just because that person is now seeing someone who happens to be of the same gender.

Crappy behavior is just that - crappy behavior - equal accountability and all that.

I actually liked Taylor for Buck in S2, I think Lucy could have been perfect for him in S5, but the writers made sure to smear their characters in the eyes of the GA from the beginning, thus ending up with another failed relationship, while Buck's relationship with Eddie thrives from one episode to another for the last 7 seasons. One has to wonder about that even if they don't ship buddie.

Same pattern here with T. I was prepared to like him with Buck, I was prepared to see Buck making his way out of the closet with someone who would make him feel safe to do it, not kiss him unprepared under the pretense of coming originally on Eddie's behalf. Not that crap show that was that restaurant date. Not Buck apologizing after feeling insecure and exposed in public for the first time out of the closet and so many other things. - I'm getting the same vibes as Taylor looking through her phone in disinterest in 4x11 as Buck recites some google fact.

And you're right, the fans going from 0-200 after one kiss was just ridiculous, like chill people have you never seen two men kiss before?

I have, on screen and in RL, I grew up with lovely lgbtq+ friends from childhood, it's not all that. When my gay best friend dated someone who didn't treat him right, I told him to get rid of him. When my cousin's gf treated her like property and like she owes her something I urged her to find a better more nurturing person to be happy with.

Two men kissing is not endgame making, hell, from experience two men having sex (hot as it is) is not endgame making.

Love, passion, trust, security, fun, friends gatherings where they're cute and gross, can be made into a healthy endgame making relationship.

Buck and Tommy have physical attraction, they make for a steamy picture but nothing else.

And Lou, I am just... I don't know, I would have preferred not to find out the things he's done as cast of 911, I am just so disappointed.

I loved Lou, now it's just meh. Like he's trying to make as much money as he can before he finishes his way in the show is all kinds of wrong. Also very misleading to the ppl who are hanging on his every word. (And I don't think Oliver likes it either, he is pointedly ignoring any scene with T, not promoting anything that doesn't involve Eddie and Christopher or Buck's own development).

Even Ryan didn't know he was going to get shot until he got the 4x13 script, he was sure he was being killed off until he talked to whoever was showrunner at the time lol.

So Lou can't know he just talks out of his ass and make himself look bad in the process.

And I agree, ppl should be free to ship whoever they desire, but they are not entitled to force their desires upon others, I'm talking about both sides of the ships not just one. (Although I gotta say I've never got hate asks until a certain ship popped up this season. A lot of hateful - now blocked anons - that I refused to give stage to.)

These toxic battles are useless and made this season worse than it's writing.

All that's left is kick back and hope this season's last episode can salvage the poor and repetitive storylines we got this season, - I mean even Henren and Bathena got a replay of S4.

And don't even get me started of the fart shaped storyline Eddie got after switching last minute.

I'm tired lol

didn't mean for this to become this long monster, If you made it this far thank you, sending LOTS of love. ❤️

[hvnnibvni]

Together Again | JJK *part 2*

Pairings: Jungkook/Reader

Genre: Mature themes. Romance. Angst. Arranged marriage AU. Childhood best friends to lovers AU.

Warnings: cheating, reader is a rope bunny (ALLEGEDLY), hard!dom JK, switch!reader, reader likes to be slutted out, drunken sex, unplanned pregnancy(this is in the end dw😅), cunnilingus, oral (both receiving), fighting (talk shit get hit) daddy!kink, praise!kink, dirty talk, spanking, hair pulling. Just all around nasty y’all.

Summary: After reader finds her long-term boyfriend in bed with their mutual friend. She moves back into her family home, but under one condition. She has to marry her childhood friend that has been arranged since their childhood. For a wedding gift they go to a mountainous getaway with a group of friends, reader is told that ex and mutual friend get invited, so reader and jk decide to pretend not to know each other to avoid any confusion or miscommunication.

Authors note: Heyyy~ how are you? Welcome back. I’m going to try to release once a day idk yet still trying to figure this app out 😭 I sound old asf bruh but we gone get through it lol. Anyways ENJOY BB🤍

——————————————————————

‘ Oh these bitches got me all the way fucked up’

“well I guess we could go back home for a while. Right my lovelies?” You ask your two afghan hounds, Cleo and Benji. You two babies you’d be damned if you’d let that piece of shit keep them. He can’t even keep himself.

As you drive home you think about what you’re going to say to you parents. You know they’re gonna be upset you left in the first place for someone who had ‘unknown origins’ but you never saw it that way. You really did love him, but you weren’t going to cry over a man. That just wasn’t in you. What would your mother say? You’d rather not think about what you father would say

when you pull up to the security gate the guard is surprised to see you, but none the less let’s you in and quickly gets in the phone. Most likely to tell your parents you were coming up no doubt. “Nothings changed,” you say to yourself as you drive through the landscape up to the manor. As you pull up to the mansion you see you mother running out to great you. “My baby! You’re home! I’ve missed you so much.” Your mother exclaimed as she kisses you all over your face. “Hey mama,” you laugh. “Where’s Dad?” You ask following her into the house. “Oh he’s up int the drawing room right now, he has a guess at the moment. Maybe it’s someone you might remember.” She says smirking to herself. “ I know that look mummy, who’s here?” “An old friends is all I’m going to say,” your mother had a cheeky look on her face when she said that. “Oh you’re up to something weird,” you say to her but ultimately you let it go.

“So are you going to tell you why you’ve come here all of a sudden after no contact for 5 years?” Your mother presses. “I doubt you don’t already know, I know you and daddy have been keeping tags on me since I left.” You answer her as she gives you an innocent face. “I do but I’d like to hear the story from you.” Your mother has been keeping tabs on you since you left, so she definitely knows the whole story. So you tell her everything. What they did and everything they’ve said about you. “Well good thing you didn’t have to deal with trivial matters like that anymore,” she says rolling her eyes at the thought of you ex. “What does that mean momma?” You ask catching the double meaning in her words. “It means you will have a chance to make things right for you and the family reputation.you know what we had to go though and cover up once you left.” She tells you low key reprimanding you at the same time.

*sigh* ”okay momma I’ll do whatever it takes to go back to being the head of the family, and kill those pieces of shit classily.” You tell your mom smirking. Your mom laughs at you change of mood, and leads you to the drawing room where you father is. You hear voices on the other side of the doors besides your fathers. Your mother open the door excited to show your father that you’re back home. When she does you dad looks like he expected to see you on the other side, while he looks at you but you’re focused on the man sitting across from him. “Jungkook,” You breathe out. “Hey y/n long no see,” he says with a breath taking smile. “ welcome home y/n we were actually just talking about you. Before we can accept you back we have one condition.” Your father explains to you. “And what is that daddy?” You ask already having an idea as you continue ti stare at Jungkook. Amazed at how much more mature he’s gotten.

“You have to agree to our previous arrangement, and marry Jungkook.” You father says not wasting anytime. Well at least he welcomed you back. You’d expected him to not speak to acknowledge your existence while you were there. “Okay. I’ll do it.” You rempli to your father watching him stand and make his way over to you. You weren’t expecting him to hug you, but he does. It’s the most loving hug you’ve ever received from you father. ”I’ve missed you babydoll,” he whispers kissing your forehead. “I’ve missed you too daddy,” you say hugging him back trying not to cry.

After a while your mother steps in “I’d hate to break up this touching moment, but we need to get y/n ready for tonight.” You look at her confused “what’s tonight?” “Your engagement party of course!” She says excitedly “why did I think I’d at least have a week to get settled in. You guys already had this planned out didn’t you? I bet you guys called the Jeon family as soon as you found out I was coming right?” You interrogate. Your father chuckles next to you as you look at you parents incredulously. “It was your fathers idea. I said we should wait at least a day.” You mother adds. “ of course it was,” you say as your father looks the other direction with a cheeky smile.

you turn to look at Jungkook who’s been unusually quiet. Watching the scene in front of him. “Were you in on this too?” You ask him looking past your parents. “I actually just found out the moment before you came in,” he responds with a small smile. “But I can say it’s been some of the best news I’ve gotten all week. I really missed you y/n.” He says scratching the nape of his neck. You and Jungkook have been arranged since childhood. He’s always had a crush on you, it broke his heart when you refused to marry him for someone else. But now that he has you he’s not going to let you go again. “I missed you too JK, you’ve grown up so much I barely even recognized you,” you say chuckling. “Yeah I know right. It’s crazy how much people can change over a short amount of time.” He says looking at you with a look you just couldn’t decipher.

Before you could respond you mother cuts in again “Ma fille, we really need to get you ready for tonight. Ah please take her bags up to her room and get her into the proper attire.” You mother asks the head maid. “Oh and burn whatever she’s wearing.” She points at your outfit , covering her face with a look of disgust. “Cheri what is this atrocity you’re wearing. It hurts to look at.” You were wearing white beach shorts, a stripped tee and a green cardigan. It’s not what you were used to wearing when you were home. But it was comfortable and made you stand out less. “Momma it’s not that bad,” you defend. “No babydoll your mothers right. That’s not something anyone in our family would wear, maybe if the cardigan wasn’t the same shade of puke it would pass as inside clothes. No scratch that no one would ever wear that in their entire lives.” You father adds looking slightly disgusted. You look at you parents shocked at them reading you to filth. Behind them you see Jungkook holding his laughter while covering his face. Before you could defend yourself further you’re already being ushered out of the room.

[blueparadis]

❝ I CAN'T HELP IT ❞ + BACHIRA MEGURU ❪ playing ⌗10, ⌗11 & ⌗12 ❫─── via radio line ❛anatomy of emotions ❜〳 from this is what ____ feels like !⠀

[ content and themes ] :: abo au + modern au, f!omega!reader, pov!bachira, slice of life, exs to lovers, mutual pinning, flirting, fast burn,angst and comfort, silent confessions, fluff , $mut descriptions; word count— 2k // [ synopsis ] :: After a whirlwind of highschool years, Bachira trips over an old flame and this time he is not afraid to get hurt no matter how many times he falls. // [ notes ] :: this is for my beloved dee @semisgroupie via snow’s valentine gift exchange ( @suyacho ). just wanna say that I've never been so happy with the results of a lottery ;› ß’read by cherry <;3 ( @cherrykamado ) // [ tag index ] :: for blog navigation ; event masterlist is linked in title. also available in my ao3.

Break-ups are never easy. They tend to do more damage than we expect, than we could ever do to ourselves. Humans say that falling in love is the most beautiful feeling. It would never let hope die,however weak it is. It would never let you weep alone. No matter how much you trip and hurt yourself, you still manage to be up on your feet again to follow them everywhere till the last breath. Love is eternal, they say. They never say how to fall out of love. Humans claim that they fall in love only once; true love happens only once unlike such animals. 

Such is the theory in this world where alphas, betas and omegas exist along with humans. Not only that, but they are actually thriving well, that is, the prospect of cohabitation has become more flourishing than before.In fact, the head representative of such inhumans claims that within a century , there might not be any existence of humans.

Bachira agrees. He agrees with the theory of love, not the animalistic part. He agrees, if he falls, he will fall so hard that he would not be able to pick himself up, at least he thought he wouldn't. His first break- up at least taught him how he was so not in love with y/n. People tend to miss their partner after break-ups, but he never missed her, not even once. Sure, there was this unsettling feeling at the corner of his heart but it faded with time. 

Sometimes, he even thought that there was not enough love between her and himself so he would miss her, after she was gone like the wind. And now she is standing in front of the list of the candidates that have cleared for higher studies. Bachira did too. He can see his name in the list of dominant alpha males. He can also see her name and her feeble stature at ease amidst the crowd. No doubt she is a human, must be, otherwise what kind of omega would not be able to detect the presence of an alpha?

Bachira starts to walk towards her hoping she would recognize his scent, turn around if he released enough pheromones but he halted, he had to. How could he not when she ran away with tears in her eyes to the nearest restroom. Was she not happy about her selection? Did she see his name too? Who on earth would cry if they had cleared scholarship exams? Humans. Twisted humans.

It has been a week since I saw y/n on campus. I don’t even know her particulars and not that I need to but it would be nice to have some info on her so that I could avoid her at all costs. She was the first person I have ever dated. There were a few after her but it wasn’t like I imagined. I didn’t miss her like I was supposed to miss after a ‘break-up’, I didn’t try to contact her or anything like that after she left due to her father’s job transfer. Now that I think about it, it’s pretty much ;ame reason for a break-up. We didn’t particularly talk after we parted. . . wait, does that mean we never broke up? That’s even more lame. Fuck fuck fuck why does she have to go to same college as I do. It could have been any other college in this gigantic city. . . oh fuck! I hate this, I hate this so much.

Bachira does not have any idea how to react if he were to cross paths with her, how to act like an ‘ex’ and hence he was always on guard. Whenever he could feel her presence he would always resort to detours rather than the normal shorter paths. Part of him felt horrible about himself , and another part was happy that she was coming to college, studying , living her day without being aware of her ex’s presence. Must be nice to be a human, to be so clueless about the raw edges of emotions. While he had his own emotional waves to avoid Y/N had her own inner turmoil to come at peace with. Not only did she crack the scholarship exams but also she was identified as an omega. The worst part was she came to know when she saw her name in the list of omegas who are selected for a pass in higher studies. Throughout her whole life she was taught how to talk like a human, behave like a human, feel like a human and now she is one of them now; a creature of the wild. Even though her parents were able to accept it quickly she took a few weeks to come in terms with it. Why was that? 

Her mother is human but her father is not. He is an omega with dominant genes. After first, y/n thought that her parents had a cute love story, just like one of those fairy tales— beauty and the beast. It felt nice. It felt perfect. She wanted it for herself, she wanted to experience one such fairy-like love story, at least once in her lifetime but it ended when she saw her father yell at her mom, so loud, so harsh that she almost cried. Y/N tried to overlook it as ‘just one-time’ but arguments became regular after that. Home was not home anymore. 

But the sun shone upon Y/N again when the family was blessed with another child, a boy, an omega. She was happy that her mom and dad did not fight anymore but the fear in her heart never went away. And, hence when her father had an order of job transfer she left without saying goodbye to her boyfriend who was as warm as the sun. In her defense, she did not have her personal cell phone yet, nor had a chance to see him at school. 

It was during summer vacation when they left the city without any trace of good memories.

And what are the odds that after a year they would bump into each other after a sultry summer afternoon? “Woah!”, y/n blurted, noticing that her ex was playing soccer with a bunch of guys from her class. 

Thereafter, each Monday she used to sit to watch him play. He has not changed, not a bit. Just a little here and there on appearances. He was taller than before, had a piercing just above his cupid’s bow and had a short ponytail; it seemed like he would let his hair grow.

And, each Monday whenever Bachira could not sense her scent anymore, could not feel her presence anymore he would look back to check and watch her walking through the corridor till she was out of sight. He even got hit by the ball for being distracted but that’s okay. He could let it slide. 

Y/N missed two Mondays in a row and his head was everywhere but not in the game anymore. He could muster up enough courage to pass by her classroom. He almost locked on the probability of not seeing her again, expecting her seat to be empty. Four more steps and he will pass through the back-door of her class room.

one.

two. 

three.

four.

The poor fruit juice can was a victim of Bachira’s anger. He never felt so betrayed before, not even when y/n left him without any word or explanation. But the second he passed that back door he was still like a sculpture witnessing the greatest miracle that life has to offer. She was looking outside through the door, with her lips having an upward crescent of mischief that made Bachira lock eyes with her. The bell rang. It was lunch break. All the students were walking out of the classroom, running through the corridor yet only two souls remain still. 

All this time. She knew. She knew that her past was slowly trailing back to her. 

Days rolled on, nights crept in but Bachira could not forget that face of hers, amidst the joyful unified screams of the students y/n was sitting in her place with a smile on her face. He even asked if they could have lunch together or not but all she did was to nod, part her lips to speak yet did not say a word before joining the crowd. 

Thereafter, bachira’s toilet breaks became frequent. He felt like he was in love, again but he knew it better than anyone that it was ‘just a phase’, maybe infatuation or a crush. There is no way he would let an old flame rekindle when there was no affection to begin in falling for her. Yes, sure he liked her but maybe not enough to have her as girlfriend again. But he could tell something was different, something about her felt different. It’s her scent. It’s different than before. 

“Nice play.”, Isagi yelled as he shared a high-five with Bachira. He thought of staying back even after practice since his parents are gonna be home late, it would be better if he dedicated some of his stamina to soccer. Everyone was getting their belongings together, changing dress and as such. 

After a while all the commotion faded. Bachira was all alone in the locker room, the slow breeze soothing his muscles while he kept his head bowed, eyes closed trying to recharge as quickly as possible. There was a feeble sound, someone was humming. Curiosity over took him and when he figured the source it amused him. It was a girl humming and moving her hips, probably practicing her steps as cheerleader, at least her outfit suggested so. 

She closed the cupboard, turned around and almost jolted at the presence of another person, Bachira. He took a few steps towards her. Two to be precise, she backed away with two short steps feeling her back being pressed against the metal locker.

“Let me go.”, y/n tartly responded trying to avert his eyes.

It was as if he was under reflex when he thought for a response. “Kiss me and I’ll.”, Bachira boldly whispered and waited.

Two things began to happen simultaneously . One : y/n slowly began to lose control over her pheromones; she was new at this. It would have been easier if she were introduced to this way of living since childhood. It takes more effort to teach a grown man to behave than a child. It’s a reboot of her whole being within just a few weeks, certainly there would be cases where it would become faulty.

Two : Bachira was starting to feel impatient. He closed the gap with quick steps entering the room and locking the door with a loud thud with his foot. He was already tired from the practice but never before he felt this uneasy, this restless.

“What’re you doing?”she asked, squinting her eyes at him. There was no sound except the dull drilling noise of the fan. Bachira's lips parted to respond, “I . . . —- but his answer ended with his lips on hers. It was a short, dry kiss, just grazing of supple skins against one another. Bachira opened his eyes when he felt a strong push on his chest. Instinct took him over as he grabbed the edge of the bench otherwise he would have knocked his head on the ground. 

“Fuck. . .”, his head felt heavy, vision a little blurred. He blinked a few times before getting up on his feet. He saw her bags and earphones on the ground. There was a bunch of noise in the corridor, giggles and talks of girls. Before anyone could spot any trace of disaster, he grabbed her belongings and left the site immediately.

It was a cold wintry evening when Bachira fell in love again, tasting the tanginess of his first love. He was wrong about so many things. They were still not over, not like this. Their love was just in brilliant sparks back then and now it turned into a wildfire.

 —

@tokyometronetwork

[tropes-and-tales]

Team Prime, Part Four

CW:  Two idiots in love; mutual pining; Bob is a unicorn of a man. Slight angst, but far less than earlier installments.

Word Count:  5227

Other pieces: This is part of a mini-series.

When the wedding weekend arrives, Bob finds himself so excited he can barely keep himself from acting like a fool.  He’s a grown man, a lieutenant in the Navy.  It wouldn’t behoove him for someone to catch him grinning like a fool or kicking his feet like an excitable child.

An entire long weekend with you, though.  Of course he’s happy.  Of course a hundred different scenarios are bouncing around his head, since weddings are so romantic by default.  He gets to spend time with you, walk into the reception with you on his arm, dance with you—

You fly in with Hannah and Eric, and Bob is the one who picks you up and drives you to the rental near the venue.  When he sees you in baggage claim, you seem unexpectedly collected.  

“How were the flying jitters?” he asks you in the car, and he’s surprised by your laughter.

“Gone!” you exclaim, and you throw up your hands, make a “poof!” gesture as if you’re a magician making something disappear.  “I haven’t been afraid to fly since…well, since we flew to Vegas, I guess.”

Bob arches a brow at you, smiles at your glee.  “Side effect of the accident?”

He hears Hannah inhale sharply from the backseat, but you ignore her.  You laugh again.

“Maybe.  Maybe getting life-flighted cured me.”  You pause, glance over and make eye contact with him.  “Or maybe I understand flight now.  You know…lift and thrust, yaw and roll…”

“You remember!”

Another laugh, and it makes his chest feel like it’s full of light to hear you so happy.  “I kinda remembered the flight to Vegas, but when I got on the plane this morning, I remembered some of the stuff you told me after all.”

“You’d told me that flight was illogical.  That humans weren’t meant to fly.”

“The wrong thing to tell a fighter pilot,” you chuckle, shaking your head. 

“Oh, I’m just a back-seater,” he clarifies as he navigates onto the freeway.  “I don’t even have a cool call sign.”

“What is it?”

“It’s, uh, Bob.”

“No, I mean, what’s your call sign?”

He winces.  He’s never wanted a cool call sign so badly in his life.  “My call sign is…Bob.”

His admission makes you erupt into fresh gales of laughter, and even if he’s the butt of the joke, it doesn’t feel mean-spirited, so he laughs too.  It is ridiculous.  

“Oh, it’s too good.  Bob Floyd, also known as Bob.”  Your laughter dies off, but then you reach out and poke him gently in his flushed cheek, and it’s so much like that day a year ago that he suddenly can’t speak for the tightness in his throat.

-----

The first evening, Thursday, everything goes perfectly.  People are trickling in from all corners of the earth, so you and Bob have a long stretch of just the two of you.  You’re in the AirBnB and he’s in a nearby hotel, but he comes over to your rental to help you fold programs over take-out.

“Team Prime, reunited,” he says, and you hold out your hand for a high-five.

Over Pad Thai and drunken noodles, the two of you catch up, though you text and talk on the phone so much, there isn’t much untrod ground.  You hesitate, then ask him how he’s feeling.

“I’m great,” he replies, a little confused at your somber tone.  “Why?”

“Well, you were engaged too.  And now you’re…not.”

He smiles down at his noodles.  “You think this wedding is going to stir up sad thoughts?”

“How could it not?”

He’s touched, as he always is, that you remember to be concerned for him.  To check in with him.  As the two of you eat, he tells you that he plans to only marry once, that marriage is for keeps with him.  That if he had married Jessica, he’d probably be miserable already. 

“And she probably would be miserable with me too,” he points out.  

“Oh, who could be miserable with you?  You’re the best,” you say, and your head is bent over your food so he can’t see your expression—and you can’t see his own expression of pleased surprise.  

He thinks this might be a side effect of your injuries.  You seem to have less guile now, less benign cunning to flirt or hide your feelings or hedge what you’re saying.  You often blurt out the truth with him, he finds.

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore,” he tells you.  “I’m good.”

-----

The next day is the rehearsal, and Bob is given a glimpse of your newfound anxiety.

He helps Eric run errands all day.  He presses the wrinkles out of his dress uniform, gets a haircut, helps ferry guests to and from the hotel.  He doesn’t get to see you until the rehearsal, and he can tell from your expression—the tight quality of your face, like you’re clenching your jaw—that you’ve had a rough day already.

He can guess that some of it is stress from the wedding, but the rest could be family related.  As he stands with Eric for the ceremony run-through, he can see how your mother fusses with you.  She keeps brushing your hair away from your face, keeps leaving her seat to whisper in your ear.  You’ve alluded to the issues with her in your endless phone chats with Bob:  how your parents have infantilized you since your accident.  How Hannah stepped in and whisked you away to southern California so that you’d have a shot of independence.

The rehearsal reaches its end, and the bridal party practices its walk back down the aisle.  Bob gets to link arms with you, and he reaches with his free hand to grasp your hand that’s lightly gripping his arm.

“How are you holding up?” he asks low near your ear.  He can feel how you’re dragging your feet a bit, slightly unsteady even in your white sneakers.

“Tired,” is all you can manage at that moment.

“Want to skip the rehearsal dinner?  Or we could get our meals to go.  I could take you back to the rental and we could eat there…”

You glance at up at him.  Your smile is lop-sided.  “I think that’d create a minor scandal, the maid-of-honor and best man disappearing.”

“Not disappearing.  Our whereabouts would be known.”

You hesitate to answer, and Bob can see that you want an out.  You’re tempted to take him up on his offer, but you want to be a good sister too…

“I think I should probably stay.  But thank you for looking out.”

Bob squeezes you hand.  “Always.”

-----

The dinner goes well.  Bob and Eric catch up, chat about Navy gossip, about deployments of mutual friends. Through it all, Bob smiles inwardly to see his friend so obviously happy.  Eric and Hannah have been together for a long while, but the love has only grown deeper through the years.  

Halfway through the meal, after Bob catches another indecipherable look from Hannah, he asks his friend what the deal is.

“She’s just protective of her sister,” Eric says.

“Protective of me?”  He’s mildly offended; he’d never knowingly hurt anyone, and he’d certainly never hurt you of all people.

Eric looks at him askance.  “No, dude.  Protective of situations that could hurt her.”  At Bob’s baffled expression, he adds, “she likes you a lot, but she thinks no one will want to date her now.”

“She likes me?”

His friend snorts.  “Yeah, she liked you before too.  She had it bad for you.  It kinda crushed her when she found out you were engaged.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, yeah.  You turned on that whole Bobby Floyd charm too much and she fell for you.  I guess you being engaged didn’t come up until that weekend in Vegas.”

There’s a hundred other questions Bob could ask, but all of the missing puzzle pieces fall into place in sudden, startling clarity.  Your sudden shift in mood in Vegas—after that night at the club when he told you about his engagement.  When he went on and on about Jessica…

Your decision to skip the flight back to California with him.  Your decision to rent that car and drive back. Your decision that put you on a literal collision course that nearly killed you.

What happened to you—it is his fault.

“Excuse me,” Bob manages to choke out, and he rushes out of the restaurant, makes it as far as the edge of the parking lot, then throws up from the sudden, awful realization.

-----

Hannah is the one who finds him.  

He’s outside in the parking lot, sitting on a concrete curb.  His elbows are on his knees, and his head is in his hands.  The guilt is so sharp that it feels like he’s been flayed alive, and he almost misses the sound of heels clicking on the asphalt.  He looks up in time to see your sister making her way to him, and she plops down beside him.

“You blaming yourself?” she asks without preamble.  Bob nods miserably, feels another acid burp creeping up his throat. 

“I blamed you too for a while,” she continues.  She hooks her hands around her knees, draws them up to her chest.  “When she was out of the coma but non-verbal, I just kept thinking, ‘why did she have to fall for you?’  Of all the people in the world, the two of you just clicked.  Why not some other guy?  Some guy that was available?”

“She skipped that flight to avoid me, didn’t she?”

Hannah nods.  “Mostly.  She thought driving back might clear her head.”

“If I’d known—”

“But you didn’t.  And you were engaged, so it wasn’t on you.  I stopped blaming you because of course it’s not really your fault.”

“Does she…”  He trails off, struggles to get the words out.  “Does she remember?”

“No, but we talked about it.”

“And she’s not mad?”

“At you?”  Hannah barks out a peal of laughter, then elbows him sharply in his side.  “Fuck, Bob, she could never be mad at you.”

“She should be.”

Her laughter dies off, and she sighs.  They sit in silence for a long moment, and Bob sits with his guilt. You’re not mad at him, but you’ve always been kind.  Gracious.  You should blame him.  You should be so angry that you write him off forever—

“I went to therapy, you know.  When she was in the hospital and rehab.  It helped a lot.”  Hannah offers him a rare glimpse into her usually-staunch persona.  She glances at him and shrugs.  “It’s a cliché, but dwelling in the past does no one any good, but especially not her.  She gets depressed that she has no future.”

“She’s doing so well, though.”

“Yeah, she is.  But she focuses on where she struggles and ignores how far she’s come.”

Bob nods, and Hannah gazes at him for a long beat.  She has that same inscrutable expression, but Bob understands it now.

“She doesn’t think she has a future,” she repeats.  “So I guess I’m saying, if you care for her too, she’s not going to make it easy for you.  If you’re not willing to fight for it, then you need to cut her loose gently before she gets too deep in it again.  I will not see her hurt.  Understand?”

He nods again, swallows despite his dry mouth.  “Yes, ma’am,” he manages to croak out.

*****

The dinner is a disaster insofar as your mother will not stop babying you.  You want to remind her that you graduated from college, that you have a master’s degree, that you held a good-paying job in Silicon Valley for years.  That a single bad day in the desert surely didn’t erase all of that.  

She tries to cut up your chicken piccata for you.  She presses you to drink more water.  She asks if you’ve taken your medicine for the day, if you’re getting a headache, if you need to go back to the rental to sleep.  

She asks if you’re ready for the bridal party dance, if you’re ready to give your speech.  She frets at the possibility of you embarrassing yourself, asks if maybe you should pass off the speech to someone else—

You stand up, sudden, and announce that you need some air.

Outside, you see a pair of people sitting together, and once you’re closer, you see that it’s Bob and your sister.  They look deadly serious, and Bob looks pale and sweaty.  You wonder if he is upset about his failed engagement, and though your instinct tells you to turn around and go inside, to leave them to their private moment, you find yourself walking over to them.

Hannah sees you first.  “There she is,” she calls out in a sing-song, and Bob looks up too—though he can’t quite seem to meet your eyes.

“Everything alright?” you ask.

“Of course.”  Hannah stands up, brushes off the seat of her skirt.  “Escaping from mom?”

“Of course.”

“You wanna head back to the rental?”  She turns and glances down at Bob.  “I think Lieutenant Floyd could probably handle that.”

He finally looks at you, and his eyes are glassy.  You swear he’s about to cry.  Though he doesn’t, not right now.  He swallows audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and he says that yes, he can drive you home if you’re ready to leave.

-----

The ride is silent.  Bob is silent, which normally isn’t an issue, but there’s tension in the car.  The companionable silences the two of you typically have seems to be gone.  His pallor hasn’t improved, and he has such a death grip on the steering wheel that his knuckles are white and shiny.

At the rental, he puts the car in park, then pauses before he kills the ignition.  He climbs out of the car, and when he comes around to your side to open your door and help you out, you put a hand on his arm, tentative.  To still him.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He shakes his head, and he pulls his arm from your gentle grip, but then he turns to face you.  In the fading light, you can see how distraught he looks—his mouth a frown, his blue eyes swimming behind his thick lenses.

“How are you feeling?” he counters, ignoring your question and asking his own.

“Tired.  Nervous.”  You worry at your lower lip as you think about your mother’s fussing.  “What if I mess up the speech?  And hell, what if I mess up during the bridal party dance?”

He chuckles, and it makes his grim expression soften.  “Do you remember in Vegas, we had a dance lesson?  Trust me, we were the best dancers then, and I bet we’ll still be the best tomorrow.”

“Team Prime, huh?”

He holds out a hand for a high-five, but when you go to slap him, he captures your hand instead.  Shifts his hold like he’s about to lead you out onto a dance floor, his warm palm gently gripping yours.

“We can practice the dance, if you want.”  

“There’s no music.”

“Sure there is.  Here.”  He releases you, then pulls his phone out.  He fiddles with it, and you hear the opening strains of the song Hannah and Eric picked for the bridal party’s dance.  He turns the volume up, then sets the phone on the hood of his car.

“C’mere.”  He holds a hand out, and you can’t resist skipping over to him, taking his hand.  You settle your other hand on his shoulder, and your stomach does its usual fluttery flip-flop when he puts his free hand on your waist and draws you closer.

“See?  You’re already doing better than before.”  His soft voice is low, right by your ear.  “You kept trying to lead.  The instructor had to set you straight.  You told me it was an affront to feminism that you had to follow me.”

You laugh.  “I don’t remember that.”

“Hmm.  Convenient.”

He leads you in an easy circle, slow and steady.  More swaying than actual waltzing, but you think it probably looks okay.  You stumble once or twice, you step on his foot…but being in his arms calms your anxiety, and you feel some of your angst about tomorrow melt away.

The song ends but then repeats, and Bob doesn’t release you.  He keeps leading you in that easy circle in the driveway, and halfway through the second attempt, he clears his throat and glances down at you.

“I’m sorry about Vegas,” he says.

“It happened.”  You shrug in his arms.  “The more time passes, the less angry I am.”

“I’d probably be angry forever.”

“You?  No, I don’t think so.  You’re too good to wallow in bad feelings for long.”

He sighs, and that close, you can feel it fanning over you.  “You give me more credit then I deserve, honey.”

Honey.  Sometimes when the two of you talk on the phone, when he seems comfortable or tired enough for his faint midwestern drawl to surface, he calls you different pet names.  Sweetheart.  Honey.  Every time, it makes you feel all light and airy, like you could float away.

“I give you exactly as much credit as you deserve,” you reply.

He grumbles good-naturedly but doesn’t respond.  The song repeats a third time, then a fourth, and he doesn’t let you go once—he only turns you in lazy circles, keeps you tucked close to him.

*****

In the course of planning for his own wedding that never happened, Bob was told time and again by vendors, by friends and family—hired a good photographer, because the day flies by so fast, there’s no way to remember everything.

He finds that even when it isn’t his own wedding, the same applies.

The morning is a blur that he won’t remember in the days and weeks to follow.  He runs last-minute errands for Eric.  He showers, shaves.  He dresses in his carefully-pressed dress uniform, and he wonders idly if you’re the type of woman who likes a man in uniform.  Jessica told him once that the white Navy uniforms made him look like an ice cream truck driver.

His first real, tangible memory that he’ll revisit over and over?  When he finally gets to see you again.  

You don’t see him just yet.  You walk in with your sisters, a bustle of female activity and chattering, but he zeros in on you:  in your navy blue dress, your matching canvas sneakers.  The single white flower pinned in your hair.

You’ve always been beautiful to him, before and after.  You’re beautiful now, but there’s something insecure in your bearing—the way you walk so carefully, the way your shoulders are drawn up by your ears—that makes him want to run over to you, wrap his arm around you.  He wants to protect you from world, keep anyone who might gawk at your scars or your unsteady gait far away from you.

He knows he loves you.  He knows it to the marrow of his bones.  He’s laid awake many nights, turning it over and over in his head.  With Jessica, it hadn’t been certainty as much as habit:  his girlfriend from middle school, they just fell into the habit of being together.  He considers it a blessing that they realized their growing detachment when they did.

You, though?  He knows it’s love.  He’s certain.  He knows that there’s challenges.  You get headaches easily.  You can’t drive yet.  You have an overbearing mother who wants to protect you too.  You have various therapies to help you regain what you’ve lost.

But the real challenge is what both Hannah and Eric said:  you think your romantic life is over.  You only see yourself as a broken thing, not someone worth loving.

If you’re not willing to fight, Hannah had warned him.  People may look at him and see an unassuming man.  With his thick-lensed glasses and baby-face, Bob Floyd puts no one in mind of a fighter…and yet, he’s exactly that.  

He’s ready to fight you, for the sake of being with you.

-----

The ceremony flies by.  Bob finds that he can’t quite tear his eyes from you.  You make it down the aisle without tripping (he catches your visible sigh of relief once you’re by your sister’s side), and you manage your duties—taking your sister’s bouquet, straightening out her veil—with aplomb.  It’s Bob who messes up, fumbles the rings, drops them with a clatter onto the small dais.

But then…then, after the couple are married and share their first kiss as husband and wife, Bob gets to offer you his arm and walk down the aisle with you.  He gets an entire hour with you and the wedding party for all the photographs.

Hannah and Eric, subtle as bombs, make sure the photographer gets one of just you and Bob, and your sister drops him that cool gaze of hers that he now understands.

“You okay?” you ask as the two of you are posed by the photographer.  Your voice has a teasing lilt to it.  “I think the videographer caught the ring drop on camera.”

“Oh, that was intentional,” he jokes.   “Yeah?”

“I didn’t want you to be the only one worrying today.  I also plan on tripping into the cake at the reception.”

You laugh, and you do your signature move—you poke him gently in the cheek.  That’s the shot the photographer gets, the moment right after:  neither of you looking at the camera, each of you looking at each other with obvious affection.  It’s the photo that Bob will eventually save as his phone’s lock screen, once Eric sends it to him with the winking emoji.

It’s the photo he’ll look at when he’s on an aircraft carrier, months from now, about to carry out an extremely dangerous mission with an uncertain outcome.  It will be a tangible reminder that he needs to survive, he needs to get home to you.

-----

At the reception, your speech goes better than you probably thought it would.  You do stutter, a bit, but Bob doubts anyone really notices.  He knows you do, though.  When you finish and sit back down, he sees how you drop your head, how you bite your lip.

So he’s does what he planned to do.  He starts his speech, then drops his small stack of index cards.  He spends a long beat putting them back in order.  He makes a joke, asks the assembled guests if they feel safe knowing his steady hands are on the weapons systems of billion dollar fighter jets, and it earns him a good laugh.

It also earns him grateful smile from you.

Then comes the dance.  It feels so natural after last night.  He took you through it five times, ostensibly to make you comfortable but as much for how it felt to hold you and dance with you without everyone watching.

“I know you dropped your index cards on purpose,” you murmur as he leads you across the dance floor.  A beat, and you add, “thank you.”

“I don’t know what you mean, honey.”

You snort.  “Oh, so Bob Floyd is a shameless liar now.  You’re not the man I remember from before.”

“I thought you didn’t remember me from before.  Sounds like you’re the shameless liar.”

You cluck your tongue in mock disappointment.  “It’s such a happy day.  Why are we fighting about who’s the bigger liar?”

“Is that what this is?  Fighting?”

“Yup.”

He pulls you closer.  “I think I like fighting with you.”

You don’t reply, but you tilt your head up to look at him, and your expression is so much like your sister’s—slightly narrowed eyes, studious, cool.  

-----

He decided last night to talk to you at the reception.  After dinner, after the speeches and first dances.  After the cake-cutting when Hannah and Eric cut into it with his ceremonial saber (“Overkill,” you whisper to Bob, making him chuckle).

Once the lights dim and the dance floor fills, Bob finds you.  He takes your hand and leads you outside, and it’s almost as if the universe is conspiring with him because the night is perfect.  Balmy with a cool breeze, a perfect crescent moon hanging low in the sky.  A million stars.  

“Take a little walk with me?” he asks, and you nod.  

He scouted the place out earlier.  He leads you now to a small arbor with a bench under it, and the two of you sit.  He turns to face you, and he takes your hand in his own.

“I had a whole speech in my head,” he starts, “but I’m drawing a blank now.”

“A speech about what?”  

“I l-like you,” he stammers.  “I liked you before.  I shouldn’t have because I was unavailable, but I did.  And then…well, you had your accident, and in the meanwhile, my engagement fell apart.  And when you came back in my life and I was free to have feelings for you, I…I fell for you.”

“Oh.  Oh, Bob, I don’t—”

“Let me finish.  Please.”  He squeezes you hand.  You look stunned, but you finally nod for him to continue.

“Maybe you don’t believe me, and that’s okay.  I just want a chance to prove it to you.  How I feel.  I’m not…I’m not great at this stuff, but I know how I feel about you.  I fell for you.  I’m in l-love with you, honey.  And I just want a chance.  That’s all I’m asking for.”

She’s not going to make it easy for you, Hannah told him, and she was half-right.  You do fight him here—you shake your head, you start to list out reasons why you can’t be with him—but Bob finds that it’s an easy victory in the end.  You don’t put up that much of a fight.

“Make a list,” he cuts in gently.  “Make a list of all the reasons why we can’t be together, and we’ll work through them together.”

That earns him a smile.  “A list?”

“I’m a WSO in the Navy,” he points out reasonably.  “I’m used to tackling problems logically.”

“So I’m a problem?”

He moves closer to you and loops an arm around your shoulders.  He pulls you against him, and he chances a near-kiss, his cheek pressed against your hair. 

“No, you’re a menace, but I love you all the same.”

The words just slip out, unintentional.  His heart is thudding so loud in his chest that he almost misses it entirely—your shaky exhale, and your own mournfully whispered “I love you too.”

*****

With Hannah and Eric on their way to their honeymoon, the brunch the next morning is a sedate affair.  Most of the bridal party is hungover and half skip it altogether.  Your parents, blessedly, left early to beat the traffic.  You’d hate for your mom to be hovering as you present your list to Bob.

The man himself settles right beside you at brunch, and you get the same butterflies you always do.  He hardly seems real.  He’s too kind, too perfect.  You know he’s not naturally extroverted, yet he made himself the butt of the joke at the reception to take the attention off of you.  Before that, practicing the dance the night before.  And before that, just him, being perfectly, wonderfully Bob.

You want nothing more than to say yes.  To be with him.  To even try.  You love him too, yet isn’t it the truest sort of love to set someone free?  

“You have your list?” he asks once the waitress brings your drinks.  “Let me see it.”

You stayed up most of the night to list out every conceivable reason why you can’t be with him, yet when you hand over the piece of paper, Bob only nods and reads it over as he sips at his coffee.

He doesn’t call you ridiculous.  He only addresses it point by point.

“Number one.  Therapy.”  He glances at you.  “That’s vague.”

“I have multiple therapists.  A lot of appointments.”

“So?”

“So…people feel a certain way about therapy sometimes.  They judge.”

“I don’t.”  He reaches into his breast pocket, pulls out a pen, strikes a line through number one.  “Okay, number two…”

Back and forth.  He reads through your list and shoots down every reason as you eat your eggs and he eats his waffles.  He teases you gently, but he never makes you feel bad about it.

“Okay, so number twelve.  Children.”  That earns you an arched brow, and his cheeks tinge with pink.  “Eager to get me into bed?”

You own face burns in embarrassment.  Of course you’ve entertained the idle (and not so idle) thought of what it’d be like to sleep with Bob, but you can’t admit that over brunch. 

“We should follow out the natural progression of relationships.  Marriage, kids.  There’s a very real chance I can’t have kids.  Any pregnancy would be high-risk, and I—”

“So follow out the progression.  We get married, we don’t have kids.  Or we adopt or foster.  Or we become that couple in the neighbor who adopts old dogs to give them a good life in their elderly years.”

Your hands tremble at how easy he makes it sound.  How easy it could be.  Thing is, you can picture it:  you and Bob married, childless, but happy.  Maybe with a house of old dogs as he said, the house full of dog beds and old shelter dogs with white faces lazing in the sun, the two of you taking slow walks with them, enjoying the evenings together…

You set your fork down and fold your hands in your lap.  “You’re being glib.”

“I promise I’m not.”  He looks at you in earnest, his blue eyes wide.  “There’s nothing on this list that’s scaring me away.  Like…”  He glances down, revisits number four.  “Unsteady hands.  You really think your struggles with threading a zipper is that big of a deal-breaker?”

You sigh and turn to face him more directly.  “Bob, you’re career military.  I know what that means, okay?  Follow the progression.  Military wives…there’s a lot of pressure there.  I wouldn’t be able to support you the way you’d need.”

He chuckles, shakes his head.  “What do you think you’ve been doing for the past few months?  When you talk to me on the phone every night and cheer me up after a rough day?  That’s support, honey.  That’s all I need.”

You stare back at him, half-mesmerized by his gaze.  His eyes are so wide behind his thick lenses, he looks comically bug-eyed.  It’s hard enough to not smile, but then he starts nodding at you encouragingly, obviously trying to sway you.  

“Say yes,” he pleads quietly.  “Say yes.  We can take is as slow as you want.  But just say yes.”

How can you resist him?  You can’t, so you decide not to even try.  You fell for him before, and you lost your memories but fell for him again.  You’ve never believed in fate or destiny or soulmates, but that has to mean something—falling for the same man twice, in two separate, very different epochs of your life.

“Okay.”  You nod back, mimicking him.  “Okay.  Yes.”

[ghosts-of-love]

My thoughts about the Captain (and especially the scenes in episode 5) under the cut. Not spoiler-free, obviously. it's also...over 1000 words

I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about the way his story was handled. I’ve never been a Havers girlie and to an extent I’m still not, for reasons I would probably have to explain in a different post. I’ve always known the Captain loved Havers, but I will admit that I did always think it was quite one-sided and, given what we were shown in Redding Weddy, I had previously thought that the Captain didn’t know he loved Havers until after his death.

I didn’t mind being proven wrong about that. There was always the chance that we would be given more information about the Captain’s life that would make me rethink things. I suppose I would now see Redding Weddy less as the Captain realising his feelings for Havers too late, and more him coming to terms with it on another level. Or even just realising that you don’t have to bury everything, some emotions and memories can be brought to the forefront and considered in a healthy way.

I still didn’t get the impression that they were ever together. I think there’s a whole depth to the relationship that we were never privy to. A lot unsaid between them and the audience but also between each other. More could always be revealed in the Ghosts Book that’s coming out soon though.

There could have been mutual feelings and love and even an actual romantic relationship there but I personally believe that the raw desperation in the Captain fighting his way into the event shows that they were not in contact (eg. writing letters to each other) in the way that two people in a secret relationship might have been.

I think that they were something that ‘could have been’. They were each other’s ‘what ifs’. If it weren’t war time, if Havers (sorry, Anthony) hadn’t gone to the front, if it weren’t quite literally illegal.

Or maybe it wasn’t even mutual. I find it hard to parse Havers’ expression. His ‘I know’ isn’t even an agreement or a confession, so much as it is an acknowledgment that he understands the Captain’s feelings, even if they’re not reciprocated.

And the Captain says ‘I had to find you’. It was a desire to know he’s alive. To know he survived. He may as well have said “I had to see you in the flesh”.

I don’t think they were together back then. I think they could have both wanted to be. I think they could have ended up together in the future if the Captain hadn’t died. If he had just waited and found a way to reach out to him a different way.

I didn’t have any problems with any of that bit actually. I thought it was beautifully acted by Ben – I could feel everything so deeply. The panic of it all. The desperation. The deep yearning to get closer to Havers, however possible.

My one gripe (which is perhaps becoming less of a gripe as time passes, but might resurface when I rewatch) was actually with what happened afterwards – the apparent lack of reaction to the story by the ghosts. Or at least, the lack of time dedicated to their reactions. He didn’t say the words aloud, and neither did they.

I flip-flop between being annoyed and thinking it works, somehow. I suppose we get to fill in the gaps ourselves – there’s no, ‘he wouldn’t have said it like that’ arguments because we don’t know what he said, we just know the bare bones of what he revealed.

And they all knew anyway.

I enjoyed (you get what I mean) the mirroring of of his stuttering in season 4 ‘I – I -’. Maybe there wasn’t anything to merit sharing with the group then because he lost his nerve but also because he knew they all knew, even if he couldn’t say it aloud. And with Havers – he can’t get the words out. That doesn’t matter. Havers knew too.

It would have been disappointing to me if they’d joked or said ‘we knew’. It would have detracted from the importance, I think. I would have felt the same if they’d fumbled around to say something he didn’t actually need to hear. For example. I don’t think he actually needed anyone to tell him that ‘it’s okay to be gay’. He’s known this for years by this point, since Sam and Claire’s wedding.

But what did he need to hear?

The man who survived the war but saw no action, who sneaked into a ‘decorated officer’s only’ celebration, who crawled through a window, who stole someone’s medals – just to find, not even necessarily talk to the man he loves – the man who died of a heart attack after the war was won.

He needed to hear that he’s brave. And that’s what he’s told, and by Fanny no less (I don’t have the power to unpack all of the meanings behind that; their friendship, her previous attitudes, her husband). I don’t think anything else they could have said would have sat right with me. Considering it was a group setting, I think it was done under the right conditions – i.e. he wasn’t put on the spot like in season 4, he made the decision to say something himself, he didn’t want to move on still regretting, still believing he wasn’t brave, still thinking he’d done something terrible. I think them telling him he was brave – and all being in agreement, all letting him get his story out with no interruptions too, unlike with Thomas, Kitty, Humphrey talking about their deaths/Kitty’s ball – demonstrated a level of attention and respect they don’t normally give to each other too.

I just wish there had been a bit more. Just something. But I can’t even figure out what it is that I wanted them to say in addition, that’s the funny thing!

I suppose I had also hoped that Alison might be there when he finally admitted something about his life/sexuality. She was the one who introduced him to the idea that homosexuality is legal now and specifically welcome in Button House, after all. I think he deserved to feel that she was proud of him. But maybe she was the one who gave him the strength in season 4 to know he wanted to wait until he was ready.

But also, the knowledge that Ben has had this planned in his head from the beginning comforts me, as does the fact that he has always tried to handle the Captain’s story/arc with respect and dignity (as much as these ghosts are ever given, you know?).

Those are my thoughts, slightly untangled but still not exactly coherent. I’d love to hear what you all think too!

[ofherpinkways]

. *. ⋆𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 , 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕓𝕠𝕪 . *. ⋆

A/N :Based off a scene in a Gilmore Girls episode lol. With the said no use of y/n ! I'm gonna use the nickname "Ace" just like how Logan calls Rory. Which honestly I think I'll permanently use "Ace"for future fics (Ace means the best/ the very best 💞)-🤍🩰🧸 Color coded lines Purple:you Blue : him

Summary: He surprises you coming back from deployment early (fem reader)

Warnings: NONE just pure fluff

Characters: Alejandro,Rudy,Horangi, Keegan,Gaz,Roach (aka my favorites 🥺)

«✯✦✯✦✯» ☄️ «✯✦✯✦✯»

You were coming back home to your shared apartment with your boyfriend. Keys in one hand and your belongings in the other. You were just about to unlock the door when your phone rang, you looked down at your phone seeing it was your boyfriend calling. He's been gone on deployment for five months now with one more left and it's been rough week of shifts at work. So seeing his contact along with a picture of the two of you together at mutual friends wedding brought a smile to your face. "Hey" you answered the phone happily still in the apartment hallway . "Hey did you see it?" He asked . "See what ?" You asked back "The meteor shower" , "what meteor shower?

"It's on the news! ,they said there's huge meteor shower tonight, I thought we could watch it together " he replied a bit of excitement slipping out

"I've been in the office for nine hours and I don't know anything about meteor showers" , "I could use a regular shower right now though " you added with soft a giggle

"Go up on the roof and check it out !"

"Now ?"

"YES NOW! It's starting in like two minutes! , ACE! ,this is a once in life time celestial event! GO!" His excitement fully showing now

"Okay ,okay, okay, I'm going !" You replied turning around heading for the rooftop staircase

"Are you running?"

"I'm running, I'm running , didn't expect you to become an astronomy buff" you joked running up the stairs "what has gotten into you? .

You opened the door of the rooftop looking up and around the sky still on the phone with your boyfriend

"Nice night " He said his voice suddenly becoming very clear making your ears perk up and look towards the voice . You saw him standing at the other end of the rooftop smiling

You smiled brightly "OH MY GOD , YOU'RE HERE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE ?!?!

He laughed "happy to see me ?

You ran over to him, attacking him with big hug "Beyond happy!, you're here! , I can't believe your here !" You said happily looking around noticing the rooftop beauty decorated with flowers,lights, a blanket neatly placed on the floor along with snacks,sweets and champagne.

"And you did all this ?" You asked softly in disbelief

"You like ?"

"I love but you really didn't need this! I mean you're here! That's enough! That's more than enough !" You replied excitedly

All your excitement and joy made him laugh again "would you shut up know so I can kiss you?" He said pulling you into soft yet a loving passionate kiss

You pulled away giggling "So there's no meteor shower?"

"No meteor shower " he replied in soft tone

"So you used the entire cosmos to trick me" you said in a honeyed voice

"I like to think big"

"Whats going on,what are you doing here?" You asked slightly worried knowing he should have another month of deployment

"Everything went well, so we got to come home early " he replied gently

You smiled "that's great!"

The two of you spent the rest of night catching up,snuggling while gazing up at the stars

(especially made for yall : @puff0o0, @matcharyu,@icarustypicalfall)

[writing-whump]

Um, hello. ^^ Anonymous Matthew's fangirl here 😅 Could we know something more about his past, and Marcella maybe? Flashback or not. With some dose of whump, of course. 🐺

Pretty please. ^^

Thank you for the request, nonny! I'm honoured that Matthew has a fan 🥰 love the wolf emoji there 🐺😊💙.

Hopeless

Matthew was lying on the sidewalk, dirt and small stones digging into his right cheek. His vision went dark for second and it was still hazy. Where did all the other wolves go? There was a group of them just a minute ago...

"Oi. You aren't dead, are you? Wake up."

The voice was unfamiliar, rough, annoyed. Matthew didn't feel inspired to give it an answer.

"They are gone. You are safe. Hey. Get up."

Someone must have helped chase the others away, when he fell to the ground and blacked out. But shouldn't a savior sound more friendly? Who was this guy?

When Matthew scrunched his eyes, he could see a mop of curly unruly blond hair and weirdly light brown eyes that almost looked yellow in the blinding sunlight.

"Mhhhhgr?" Matthew blinked, trying to lift himself on his arms, but shooting lighting pain at the lower part of his back left him breathless and nosediving back to the ground. Christ, that hurt. Who hit him in the back like that? Good sportsmanship indeed.

"Where's your shadow, eh? Heal yourself up. Seriously." Hector sounded even more annoyed now, like he had to deal with a problem he really didn't like.

Matthew tried very very feebly to call his shadow, but it jolted away from his grasp. He wasn't sure if it was humiliated, scared to be caught in such a state or just disobeying when he least needed it. But his back was hurting too much and his ears were ringing enough that he really didn't have the energy to fight for control and get more nauseous and discerned than he was.

"What a pathetic thing you are. And you are my brother's second? Tsch."

Matthew closed his eyes, feeling Hector moving away. Maybe he would finally leave him alone to black out and feel miserable in peace.

Then he felt his hands on his shoulders, going under him and hoisting him up.

Matthew groaned at the movement and the accompanying pain. "You want to kill me?"

"Tsk. If I wanted that, I wouldn't have bothered helping."

Hector helped him? That was entirely impossible. Matthew didn't even bother checking. Isaiah's mean accusatory and barky little brother that had nothing nice to say about him? Matthew didn't know what exactly the issue was, but someone who wasn't willing to give Isaiah even a chance, who could believe he could do anything with bad intentions...

Like okay, Isaiah was mysterious and a martyr and annoyingly guilty and insecure about every little thing. But that only made Matthew think the ones who got the chance to know him, really know him, should defend him all the more. Even from himself.

In that regard, Hector was a complete failure Matthew didn't want to bother with. And he suspected the feelings were mutual.

But here they were, Hector throwing Matthew's arms around his neck and dragging him to the nearest bench.

"Hey. Dead-head. Should I call a taxi? Can you get back on your own?" Still sounding way too disgusted for Matthew's tastes. Though it was actually kinda helpful of him? Kinda.

Matthew slumped against the bench, teeth gritted from pain. His back was seriously messed up. His eyes were watering just from the effort to sit, not to mention move and his shadow wasn't listening, when he needed it and...

And he really just wanted Isaiah.

"Can you...could you call Isaiah?" Matthew said between wheezing breaths. He tried leaning over his knees, but it made him more light-headed. Nausea was climbing up his spine, cold sweat washing over him in waves.

"Please." Yeah. Matthew felt utterly too pathetic to care today.

Hector's head went back a little at the word. He grumbled something, scrolling up and down through his contacts. "I...don't have his number. You got a phone on you."

Matthew shook his head, pressing his lips together. Cold heaviness was pooling in his stomach and he knew that would be trying to climb out soon. He didn't carry his phone on his runs.

The wolves attacked him out of nowhere. Three against one. Isaiah would understand. He wasn't so sure Hector would.

The blond in question clicked his tongue. "Ugh. Fine. I'll call a taxi and take you home, how about that."

Matthew didn't comment at what it showed, that Hector knew Isaiah's address, been invited there in need, but didn't bother to save his phone number. Utterly insufferable, this guy.

Hector all but insulted the taxi driver into coming, then sat down next to Matthew, his leg jumping nervously.

Matthew closed his eyes, taking slow careful breaths through his nose. His back was burning steadily, and he was too warm and his hands were shaking. Damn it all.

The car parked sharply on the sidewalk. Hector opened the door, said something to the driver, then returned for Matthew.

"Young man, you aren't going to be sick are you?" The taxi driver asked from inside as Hector circled his arms around Matthew's upper back again, helping him hobble to the car.

"What if I do?" Matthew wanted to sound resentful and rebellious, but the sentence came out more like a whisper.

"Well, the taxi will survive," Hector snarled at the driver who was eying them both in the rear view mirror. He winced and looked away quickly at the scary look on Hector's face.

Matthew slumped against the window, but the more he was sitting the more his back muscles trembled. The pain was getting worse by the moving, and the nausea was spiking. He couldn't imagine how he was supposed to survive when the car started to move.

And as he expected, the car moved and Matthew couldn't suppress a quiet groan. His hands balled into fists, his nails digging into his skin, but it wasn't helping, he was still seeing stars in front of his eyes.

There was something warm and solid, suddenly pressing against his side. Hector's muscular arm around his neck again, pushing Matthew to lean against him, trying to fix him in the spot against the jostling of the car.

Matthew moaned quietly, but it did actually help - he wasn't moving so much, pressed against Hector, face against the crook of his neck. The red wolf squeezed his eyes shut, not having the capacity to think about it.

The car ride was a blur. Matthew stayed like that, eyes squeezed shut, waves of warmth coursing through him, fighting the nausea as it climbed and sank. Hector said nothing, all solid like a statue under Matthew. He must have held himself very tense and strong to fight against the rocking off the car.

Matthew's mind circled and wondered, the darkness enveloping him. The last time he fought three wolves...Matthew was no stranger to being outnumbered. As a teenager, the wolves in his pack had to gang up on him, to suppress his shadow. It was too big, too wild, too out of control. Add that to Matthew's volatile puberty hormones and temper, he had to be beaten and taken control of quite often.

Usually making a giant scene in the process. A scene his mother would angrily scoff over, turning her back. Matthew wasn't worth her time.

Scene enough that his sisters and younger siblings were too wary and horrified to approach him.

Since going to the boarding school, he could only spend his summers at home. And with the scenes he made, he spend most of the time behind their house at the back of the backyard. Outside. Alone.

"Why are you so sad?"

Matthew lifted his head from his crossed hands, hugging his knees. The little girl with strawberry red hair and big blue eyes stared back at him. A little witch. The youngest of his sisters, whole 10 years younger than him. The only witch, the long awaited one by his mother.

Marcella.

Matthew looked at her steadily. "I'm not sad," he grumbled.

"You look sad though." She crouched down, mimicking his pose by hugging her knees. She was only six years old. "Is it because you are alone?"

"I don't mind being alone," he said, baring his teeth. His mother would surely not be pleased that he talked to the witchling. They were very protective of her.

Marcella tilted her head to the side. "You don't look like you don't mind."

Matthew lowered his gaze. "They are all scared of me. Cowards." He said sulkingly, voice breaking a little at the end.

Marcella watched him curiously. "I'm not scared. Can I stay with you?"

Matthew let out a sigh, wiggling closer against the warmth and solidness of a human body beside him...when the car stopped. The sheer lack of the motion he almost got used to jolted him awake, his stomach doing somersaults immediately.

Matthew gagged, pressing his hand against his mouth as his body lurched forward. The movement had spikes of burning needles digging into his back and he moaned.

Hector reached over him, opening the door. The gust of fresh air helped a little, Matthew following the scent as he fought against the next gag. He succeeded in suppressing the wave of slimy coldness, gulping it down resolutely. His chest hitched and his stomach rolled in protest, but he managed.

"Okay. We are here, we are here. You made it." Hector got out through the other side, circling around to crouch next to Matthew, planting a hand on his biceps. "You gonna be okay?"

"Y-...grrr...you are asking me that?" Matthew grumbled, slightly amused. Hector made for a good distraction. Matthew automatically reached for his arm to help himself up and Hector had enough brain and observation skills to take Matthew's weight himself.

"You owe me for the ride," Hector complained with no heat in his tone. Matthew murmed something in return, letting Hector support him. Everything was coming in and out of focus. Maybe for the best he kept his eyes closed.

Matthew didn't even realized when they reached their floor on the elevator, incredibly proud of himself for not throwing up the whole time. He kept his eyes shut. Hector, fortunately, didn't complain.

Hector rang the bell, the familiar sound vibrating through the air on the next side.

Isaiah opened the door. "Matt-"

Matthew all but threw himself at Isaiah, utter relief giving him enough energy to propell himself forward. The black haired wolf caught him despite the surprise, and Matthew gratefully slumped against him. "Oh, dear God, I'm home."

Isaiah splattered for air under the weight. "Matt, what happened?"

"Geez, he is acting like I was no help," Hector grunted, frozen in the doorway at the sight.

"And you were?" Isaiah said sceptically.

Hector scoffed. "Seriously. Found him getting his ass kicked by a bunch of wolves. Chased them away but he ain't healing, so-"

"That's alright," Isaiah jumped in. "Thank you for bringing him." Isaiah didn't close the door, but Matthew still felt like Hector just got dismissed as the oldest wolf retreated back from the hall into the living roon, Matthew still in his arms. "Where are you hurt?"

Matthew groaned against the back of his throat. "Mmy back. Feels like someone stabbed me there."

He could feel Isaiah's hands running over his back as if to check for bleeding cuts, but the skin was intact. It was something deeper, like a pulled muscle. But why did it hurt like that?

Isaiah helped Matthew to lie down on his stomach, helping him out of his sweat-soaked shirt. "Okay. You are going to be alright, bud. Deep breaths. Is your shadow hurt?"

Matthew hid his face between his arms, finally relaxing at the stable surface. When the tension left, the nausea trickled right back in and he hissed in pain.

"I-Isaiah? I'm...ugh-" Matthew gulped, loudly, feeling his stomach spasming. He tried lifting himself up and moaned, his back feeling like he got a slash with a sword at the movement. "Ifeelsick."

Isaiah jumped into action, fetching a mixing bowl from the kitchen and and springing back to Matthew's side. "Okay, I got you. Shhhh. Don't move."

Matthew shifted to the edge of the sofa, moaning as his cheeks bulged out. How was he supposed to not move? His stomach didn't care his back was hurting like a bitch, it was spasming and making him lurch. The movement was absolutely involuntary at this point.

Isaiah put the large mixing bowl down on the floor, then took Matthew's face gently in his hands. His palm against Matthew's forehead and the other on his cheek felt heavenly cold as Isaiah supported the weight of Matthew's head.

Matthew was leaning over the edge just enough to let out a trick of thick spit into the bowl. He moaned again, his stomach cramping as it send the next wave of chunky sick up his throat with a load burp.

Isaiah diligently held his face in his hands as the puke spilled from Matthew's open mouth. "Shhhhh. You are alright. Just breathe. It will be over in a minute."

Matthew's eyes were watering from the strain and pressure at his neck, connected to the burning nerve endings of his back. But it was thousand times better as to strain there without Isaiah's support.

Matthew burped up a second gush of puke, whole body jerking in the process. He groaned, tears running down his cheeks and into Isaiah's fingers.

The spasms of vomit died down slowly, with Matthew twitching and groaning pitifully for another good minute. Isaiah held his cheek, stroking his hair with the hand, trying to shush him.

Matthew completely gave up on any emberassment or pretense, raw and tired from the pain, afraid of more of it coming. He was so glad Isaiah was there he would have cried if he wasn't already.

Matthew was left breathing harshly against the sofa's leather, now shivering from the cold that also jolted his back and hurt. Everything hurt, everything was too much and his shadow wasn't listening...

"Hey. Shhhhh. You are okay. You are home, you are safe. You will get through this. I'm right here. Everything will be fine."

Isaiah's confidence broke Matthew's spiral. Matthew strained to look up at him, turning his head to the side.

Isaiah got rid of the bowl, bringing it back cleaned out, then sat down beside him. Matthew didn't protest against being pulled into Isaiah's lap like a child.

Isaiah said nothing about the tears, only stroking his sweaty hair and his scalp gently. His utter calm was making Matthew believe everything was indeed going to be fine. He relaxed, starting to feel sleepy. Just the occasional shiver jolted him awake.

Isaiah pressed his lips together and pulled a blanket neatly folded at the foot of the sofa over Matthew's naked back. "Just sleep. Everything will go back to normal once you wake up."

Isaiah was sure once Matthew calmed down, he would be able to call upon his shadow and heal himself. Isaiah never had any doubts Matthew could do it. He never doubted Matthew could do anything.

Matthew let his eyes fall closed with the gravity, wondering at what point Hector's presence disappeared from the apartment.

He must have been in a hurry, leaving the door open.

[thinkingjasico]

Ok so I don't have other mutuals into PJO but I must confess I've been thinking about a scenario. Gender bend Jasico with Nico as the scary goth girl and Jason/Julia being the local prom queen and they maybe are roommates and fall in love. Have I watched the wicked trailer 200 times? Mayhaps. But I just think it kinda fits them, and I love to make my faves lesbians so. Yeah.

I love this! It also makes me think of an coffee shop AU!

Nico is a barista at this very charming café on campus. She's always very quiet; studying or reading on the other side of the counter when the café is not very busy. Julia always has a million things to do during the day, so she lives off coffee and has been a regular custumer there since her first year in college, until now, in Julia's second year, Nico starts working there and Julia not only becomes terrifyingly fascinated by her, but also obsessed with the playlists Nico puts on during her shift. Julia seems very confident to others, but in reality she's not at all confident about these things; which means that for the entire first semester that year all she said to Nico was: “good afternoon”, “an espresso, please” and “thank you” . She ventured to comment on the rain once, but Nico didn't hear with the noise of the coffee machine, so Julia didn't venture to say anything more.

But when the winter break arrives, Julia's roommate tells her that from January she won't be able to live with her anymore because she's moving in with her girlfriend (Piper and Annabeth? Who knows…).

The problem is: Julia has to share the rent. The person who helps her with the bills, since she has a full scholarship to college, is her older sister Thalia--- who never went to college but has her own business, and neither of the girls has any relationship with their parents. Also, Julia hates the college dorms because she had a horrible experience living there in her first month of college. Her roommate was always taking boys there and ignored her requests to stop doing that, so Thalia said she could pay half of a cheap rent for her, so she could concentrate on her studies (I don't even need to say that for Thalia, Julia is the most perfect creature ever to walk the earth and she would kill and die for her sister to have a good life and not have to go through the things she went through).

Anyway, she's desperate and put up notices all over the college buildings, because if she doesn't find someone to share her apartment, she'll have to move out at the beginning of January. But the campus is practically empty, it's unbearably cold and she should have gone to California to spend the end of the year with her sister already. She goes to the café, upset and anxious, and for the first time she doesn't think about Nico as soon as she walks through the door. Instead of going straight to the counter, she sits down at a table in the corner of the empty café, takes off her wet coat and beanie and leaves her flyers on the table. She's reaching for her cell phone to text Thalia and tell her she won't be able to travel until she's sorted this out; when a cup is placed on the table. She looks up and sees that it's an espresso. She looks up more and sees that Nico is standing there, with her long, black, wavy, voluminous hair tucked behind her pierced ears, and her painted black lips with a piercing in the middle say: “I saw this flyer in the English building today.”

It was just those words.

The flyer had many ways of contacting Julia, with all her social media accounts there so you could see the image of perfection that everyone had of her. Maybe all the problems that would ruin her end of the year and her next semester would be solved now, but all Julia could think was: She knows my order?!

Julia nods, “Yes, I'm looking for someone to share my apartment with. It's right near the campus entrance. The building is pretty old, and I live on the sixth floor, with no elevator, but the apartment is nice, I promise. I'm not noisy or messy and I don't have any pets.” She could have shut up after explaining the location of the building, which was already in the flyer, instead of saying it all in one breath like that, but anyway… “Do you know anyone who would be interested?” Please be you, please be you…

Nico glances to the counter, “I lived in the dorms at first, but my roomate was the most shitty person I've ever met. So I moved into the second floor of the café; not exactly with Luke's permission at first, but when he found me there he let me stay until New Year's.” She turns back to Julia and says nothing more, so Julia assumes that the person interested in the place is Nico herself.

There was a possibility that Julia would fall in love and spend the rest of her college years suffering in silence for that girl, but even if she only got to be friends with Nico, that would be enough for her.

Julia smiles and holds out her hand to Nico to close the deal. "It seems we were fated for each other then." And that was precisely why usually Julia only said the same things to Nico. "I-I mean, destined to be roommates, you know? And solve our housing problems."

But, thank God, the girl didn't seem to pay much attention to what Julia said, because she seemed to be thinking about something, and didn't take Julia's hand. “Hm, I kind of adopted a stray cat that kept eating the café's garbage.”

Julia smiles more broadly; her hand still held out. “Great! Take the cat with you.” And then Nico gives what Julia would later learn is the beginning of a smile, and takes her hand. Julia is actually allergic to cats, but at the moment she couldn't even see it as a problem.

[nobodysdaydreams]

Well...

...that could have gone better.

(Also it turns out Lovelace IS an alien. 👽 so that's fun, I think?)

(or my reaction to episodes 44-46 of Wolf359)

Welcome back dear readers, sorry for the delay. Procrastinating on finals has been taking up all of my time, thank you for your understanding.

Tagging the mutuals who got me invested in this, and if you want to be tagged or untagged from these posts, lmk, or you can follow my blog or simply follow the tag "#bods wolf359 reactions". Anyone who has followed me for a while knows my updates are inconsistent, so I apologize in advance for that and for any spelling/grammar mistakes in my posts.

@sophieswundergarten @oflightningandstars @acollectionofcuriousreblogs @herawell @commsroom

Episode 44: Desperate Times

Now where were we? Ah yes. Cutter lied about their deaths and has an evil girlfriend who makes his robots. Hilbert and Lovelace told Minkowski about the death thing to get her on board, and once they have her, she should be able to get Doug and Hera on board.

Great point Doug. How many secret rooms can one space station have?

And how many copies of the SI-5? Because we already had two Duck boys. If another Kepler strolls in and starts talking about Whiskey again, that might just be too much for me.

No Minkowski. You don't want to kill anyone. But I understand.

Wow. Doug knows some fancy words. "Commander Eiffel" 😂

Oh, they're actually laughing. I'm sorry Doug. Wow, he just made that up too, very convincing.

Aw, Minkowski. I want to hug her. If she doesn't make it back to her husband...

oh yay, she and Doug are talking it out! Friends! My feelings exactly Hera! 💕💕💕

Hera is so sweet. It's weird to think she was built by and modeled after someone so horrible.

Ah. Taking a late night stroll around the ship Hilbert?

Hilbert. NO. NO NO NO NO NO. NOT THE EVIL CHAIR.

Evil chair will kill you. Evil chair will show them your brain which shows them your plan to rebel against them. Do not trust the evil chair Hilbert. For a smart man, you make some remarkably and unbelievably dumb decisions.

I want to believe in them. I do, I really really do. But unfortunately, I know that there is an entire other season left. So...

It's not looking good. Personally, I think the most expendable is Hilbert. They can kill the character off without having to fire the actor. If anyone's about to die, it's him.

The "terrible trio", I like it Doug. Good nickname for SI-5.

The um...the blunt force trauma face?

Oh my this hypothetical of Maxwell, Kepler, and Jacobi falling apart is music, sweet music.

If only...if only.

They are really counting on the SI-5 acting exactly like this. I hope they get it right. I do love the way they make Whiskey Boy out to be such a cartoon villain. He really is.

Oh they're conflicted about who to target. That's right Hera. Target Duck boy. I mean...they did already kill him once, right?

Although slight problem. Let's say they do kill SI-5. Let's say they try to fly the ship back to earth. Can't Cutter just blow the ship up remotely? He'll probably send a missel after them before they even get into the atmosphere. I mean...what would you even do in this situation? He's literally got them bargaining for every second of their lives. Makes you wonder how many teams he has out there like this...

What happened? No gas? Oh dear. Plan B?

HIT MAXWELL WITH A WRENCH? POP A WEASEL?

I don't like how this is going.

"I'm glad I have you alone" Hilbert stop it.

Opponent is not going to hesitate to kill you. That's true. But you can't forget who the enemies are. Cutter and Pryce. And yes. SOMETHING IS WRONG!

Oh dear. Well this is terribly awkward.

...um...so...Maxwell. Duck Boy. Fancy a mutiny?

Guess not. Oh dear. This is bad. This is very very bad.

IS NOT ABOUT THE CONTACT EVENT! IT'S ABOUT THEM GETTING BACK AND YOU KNOW IT.

I KNEW THAT YOU COULDN'T TRUST HER.

"Don't struggle?"

Not the brain sweeping. Maxwell you have lost all my respect, and likely your own if you still had any left in you.

Shut up Duck Boy, literally no one wants to hear from you.

Well this is a pickle. How will our heroes (and Hilbert) get out of this one? 👀

Episode 45: Desperate Measures

"Wakey-wakey", shut up errand boys.

"Passion for disciplining crew members, isn't that right Jacobi?" You're a sadist waste of space who works for a sadist waste of space, we got that Whiskey Boy.

Oh great. Another super secret room. There's probably thousands of them at this rate. A whole city in the sky.

What a nice little room of weapons. As a lover of dramatic irony, I do hope Dr. Robot and our dear Errand Boys find themselves on the other side of those weapons.

Hera you can delay having to respond to her commands! You can! Remember: You can't do this. You're not good enough. Use it to your advantage.

"I knew it!" you did Doug. And yeah, Hilbert didn't sink so low.

"Kill whoever you like least", well there goes Hilbert.

Good work Hera! 🥰 Oh dear it hurts.

THE VENTS! That's right! Go Minkowski!

Geez does Whiskey Boy ever tire of the sound of his own voice? I guess not.

Shut it Kepler! Yeah Doug! He can go to hell! Tell him off!

Doug: "You're crazy"

Kepler: "No Doug. I'm just a man that wants to be taken seriously. That's why I'm sitting here with a gun in one hand, glass of Whisky in the other, while singing "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe" like a cartoon supervillain. There's nothing more respectable or serious than that."

Lovelace is speaking FACTS. He has lost his humanity. But um...ironically so might have Lovelace. Or all of them still unclear on that.

"You're hilarious" "one more thing I have that you don't" ooohhh... dang, it that ain't the truth. No one will be as funny as Doug, but if anyone comes close it's certainly not Whisky boy.

"Very nice speech captain" Well it was better than the Whisky speech Kepler. Take notes.

That's right Lovelace. Who cares what Kepler see when he looks at you? No one. Because he is a waste of space.

She'll survive because of magic alien plot armor.

Aw, she did it for Doug. That's really sweet.

And...off goes the gun. But no screams. He better not have shot Doug.

"You have 30 minutes to think about what you've done. Then we'll talk about Eiffel."

I know I should be furious over the whole "what you've done" comment, but I gotta ask, how dangerously stupid is Kepler? 30 minutes is plenty of time to put a plan into action. What does Kepler need 30 minutes for? Swirling his Whisky around and telling Doug how much he loves the feel of it in his hands.

Why don't you mind your own business Maxwell? Why don't you shut up and mind your own business and throw yourself in the airlock?

Good stalling Hera...yes! Finally knocked out Dr. Robot. Now, as much as I am against murder, eye for an eye, and all that...in this situation, keeping her alive puts multiple innocents at risk.

Anyone got an eye on Duck Boy?

Kepler doesn't care about Maxwell! He doesn't care about anyone!

Doug...great speech for this to work, he has to care about human life, and he clearly doesn't.

Yeah, I don't really like chess either Doug.

Why do I feel like he's going to hurt Hera in a way that only Maxwell can fix?

Ah there he is. "I wouldn't do that so someone. I just blow people up to kill them! :)" ugh Duck Boy is the worst. I knew that he was off doing something silly. "Crazy Jacobi the loose canon" dude, you're Duck Boy. That's your existence.

And I knew Hilbert would be the one to go. They don't have to fire his voice actor to kill him, which makes him expendable.

Well it took a very long time to get here, but looks like Hilbert is finally gonna kick the bucket. And yeah, you guys have no idea how long they've been trying to kill Hilbert. If it was Doug, I'd be more worried, but between Hilbert and Doug, Doug's got the plot armor.

And...there he goes! Oh wait...did she shoot Maxwell! Oh be quiet Jacobi, it's not like you ever actually cared about her. If Cutter or Kepler ordered you to kill her, you would have done it.

You can't talk sense into him Doug. He's a nutcase. We established that.

I love Doug. "Well it's been a topsy-turvy day!"

And see Kepler? Not so fun playing with lives when yours is on the chopping block, now is it?

Yes Doug! Tell him! Oh poor Whisky Boy, are you gonna cry?

Right three people dead: Lovelace, Hilbert, and Maxwell. That's a lot. My money is on Lovelace coming back due to alien magic, Hilbert dead for good, maybe Maxwell lives on in Hera's memory or flashback land.

YES! I love Doug's loyalty to Minkowski!

Does Kepler have an escape pod? I feel like he would. Oh he's telling his duck boy to stand down. But duck boy doesn't seem too happy about that. I guess he cared a bit more for Maxwell than Kepler, even if he would have shot her if given the order.

"Finally over" hm...I seriously doubt that.

Ah yes the aliens. I wonder what they have to say about all this. And Kepler please shut up. "You want to be in charge of this mess, fine." The mutiny literally just happened on your watch. You spent half the crew budget on expensive Whiskey. You don't care at all that Maxwell is dead.

Episode 46: Bolero

Is that music? Um... what is this? I do wonder why they chose to send music, when they've demonstrated that they can send voices.

Yeah...this is a lot. And they lost their human doctor and robot doctor. As much as I hated them, they were useful. Unlike the errand boys, who only seem to be good a cowering in fear from ducks and giving speeches about whisky.

Oh and apparently they like music too. How nice.

"If the commander wishes for silence, then silence she shall have" and yet you're still talking.

Yeah...what do they do now. They have to warn everyone, expose Cutter and get him to jail, but the aliens are also invading. Oh gosh, are Cutter and Pryce aliens? Is this a plot to replace humanity with aliens? That at least makes more sense than Cutter's a loon who just wants to take a gander at some dangerous aliens, but why do I get the feeling that "Cutter's crazy" is what's actually happening here?

Oh right Kepler's special DNA. But your DNA still works even if it's detached from your body, right? 🧬

"We owe it to Lovelace, Hilbert, and Maxwell..." good work Doug. They were evil, they were flawed, but they were still humans.

Oh Hera. Wow, we don't have funerals for animals???? Yikes... I'm starting to see how she was modeled after Pryce now. In that case, I wonder what happened to Pryce. Also Hera, I get what you're saying, but that's an insult to animals. Many cats and dogs I've met are very loyal, kind, and useful.

oh dear she's talking to Lovelace's ghost/memory. 🥺 It's not your fault Minkowski. It was never your fault. And yeah...you all deserve to make it home.

That is if there is even a home to come back to...

Doug, Hera, come on. You're best friends. Wow. And yeah, she and Maxwell were friends, that's why she's so upset! Oh right...if one human friend betrayed her...oh Hera...Doug's not like her you know that! Maxwell would sell you out, Jacobi would sell her out, and Kepler would sell him out, but Doug? Doug would never sell anyone out.

"I know what it's like to not get a chance to say goodbye. And I don't think you're past the point of not caring. Not yet." That's sweet Doug. But you're giving him a bit too much credit. Oh he's mad he killed her? Fair enough, but Jacobi...you said yourself you were monsters! Do you really want to try to claim the moral high ground here? That's right Doug! Tell him! "You're gonna like it...I mean you're gonna feel sad!" Yeah! That's right! Shove the compassion down his throat Doug. Sometimes that's the way you gotta do it.

Minkowski is gonna have some pretty severe PTSD after this. I want to hug her.

Oh no, Hera's remembering Maxwell. "Was everything you did for me part of a secret evil plan?" it's not that simple Hera. Bad people can do good things. Good people can do bad things. Cognitive dissonance Hera, that's how it's possible. Compartmentalization. Circular and deluded thinking. And fake Maxwell is right. It's about you Hera. It's not about her. Forget about Maxwell. Forget about Pryce. You're better than them, and more human too.

Yes Hera, get the feelings out. No, Doug she's coming around!

Oh no...no no no...Doug is wasted isn't he? Kepler's private supply no doubt...oh no... oh Doug.

"I killed them Hera." no you didn't Doug! Intentions matter! You are the ship's moral compass. Don't drink yourself off.

"I'm a drunken mess whether I have a drink or not." oh Doug. Doug.

Please don't give yourself alcohol poison. Oh good self-talk from Hilbert. Yeah Doug never wanted anyone to die.

"How else did you think this was going to end?"

Aw, Doug has so much hope. Never lose that Doug. Never lose it. And yeah, it's nice to believe in redemption. It is theoretically possible. Though in certain cases, highly unlikely. I won't name names.

So...it's just Doug and Jacobi at the funeral? Well. This is incredibly awkward...

Oh right, Hera's never been to a funeral...

Oh nvm Kepler's here for the food. He's so gross.

They gave Hera grief but no way to deal with it? Oh she can't understand why they are gone? The "I wonder if I'll miss you when you go away forever too" is hitting different.

Minkowski came through!

Wow, Jacobi actually is able to say a few nice words.

Dr. Hilbert was a monster 😂. Fair. Completely fair. See ya later Doc. I think Hilbert would have liked it.

Oh don't let Kepler talk. He'd ruin the funeral. Though to be fair, he'd ruin anything.

Never mind looks like the aliens beat him to the punch.

Looks like the aliens decided to come early.

Uh...HERA?

KEEPING WHAT OUT?

Tell me the aliens aren't already here.

Is Lovelace coming back? Oh Kepler knew this was going to happen.

"It can't hear you." DO NOT CALL HER AN IT KEPLER. Alien or not, she's a...well she's a someone.

So she IS an alien? An alien who acts like her? Okay... and yes please, let's start at the beginning. It's about time Kepler. If you're going to talk, you might as well say something useful.

Now I've procrastinated enough but...wow this doesn't look good. Hopefully the crew can get back safely.