#is it wrong to say this actually made me happy?

[karlachismylife]

Wrote the intro the day I started this work and decided to leave it since it reflects the shitstorm in my head quite well, eh.

Okay Idk what it is with me today (I actually do know, I'm having a bad fucking night as a consequence of my own actions but I prefer not to think about it), but I just thought about task force 141 and reader that has such a bad withdrawal after their orgasm that they actually cry and not in a fun way (cue my lack of understanding how crying in bed can ever be fun, but i'm not here to kinkshame)

CW: NSFW (so minors and ageless blogs DNI, I'll block you), but there's barely any sex, hurt/comfort, body image issues, low self-esteem, chubby/fat!reader, written with afab!reader in mind (but most parts can be read as gn), potential mental health issues (?), thoughts of selfloathing and selfharm, smoking mentioned once at the end. Very self-indulgent and I'm definitely unwell, so yeah. It's also more focused on reader's inner shitstorm than the guys in many places so idk if this even really is enjoyable...

Starts as a single piece, then splits into individual blurbs/drabbles/oneshots + some polyamory cuz I'm spoiling myself today having done nothing to deserve it, lol.

They vary in size and tone since I've been writing them through several ups and downs in my own mental state, so please don't take this as a sign of which characher/combo is my favourite. I'm greedy, I like everything.

This is unfair.

Like, you just had wonderful sex, probably came more than once in a short period of time, ears stuffed with cotton, limbs weak, head spinning... and it keeps spinning, sweet tingling on the skin turning into nasty rushes of cold, muscles too tense, but it's not a cramp.

You feel like shit, every possible hormonal and neuromediator crash downing on you, a hollow, depressing weight in your chest instead of a sweet afterglow. Sweat and cum feel disgusting on you skin, your skin feels disgusting, strangling, your whole body seems revolting, too heavy, too sluggish. A sticky, suffocating heatwave on your nape, but your chest is cold and covered in goosebumps, a feverish feeling clogging every pore. Nausea wrenches into your stomach and stops just before you can relievingly barf and get rid of this parasite inside.

You simply want to dig your nails into your own shoulders instead of his and rip the skin and meat off, free yourself from this burden (you're the burden). Each second as he stays blissfully unaware, holding you tightly with his big hands and panting into the crook of your neck, drags on like a hundred hours of pure torture - the torture of being yourself.

Throwing up feels like an appropriate reaction to how unappealing and ugly you feel.

You're spiraling. You couldn't fucking keep your own messed up emotional outburst - completely unreasonable and unprovoked, by the way - to yourself, and now it's going to be noticed. You'll ruin someone else's fun. Make it all about yourself when you've already been nothing but doted on, cared and provided for. Fucked so good that your body is still clenching around that magnificent cock deep inside you.

And you're fucking crying, like an ungrateful, egotistical brat. Never having enough, unable to provide something as simple as a hole to make someone else happy without fucking it up.

Ghost notices immediately. There's nothing that can escape this man, and definitely not his love's distress. He's not reacting immediately for a sole reason: he's frozen in fear, horrified that he made you cry. How - he's not sure, he always takes great care to stay within limits, never allows himself to push you further than you both agree on. But what if he slipped up? What if he got carried away? Did he cause pain? Did he say something hurtful in the heat of the moment?

"Fuck. Hey, hey, lovie... look at me... wha's wrong? Did I... did I hurt ya?" Good thing you're hiding your face and your red eyes so desperately that you can't see how distressed and downright terrified Simon looks, lost at the sight of your tears. When you shake your head and attempt to push him away to hide your pathetic sobbing, he somewhat calms down and brings his big calloused hands to cradle your face, gently prying your own palms away and holding your puffy cheeks tenderly. His thumbs brush your tears away as he holds you, holds you through the growing rage fit of touch aversion, through the shudders and actual wailing. At some point he moves his palm to cover your eyes, a dry, dark blinder to keep the world around you shut out, help you concentrate on his voice.

He's not talking, just humming, a familiar, deep, grumbling noise that soothes all the flashes of anger, hate and disgust in your brain. You're tired now, like you're always are after such an intense outburst, and as you go limp, he finally pulls away, only to pick you up - barely a strain, a direct spit in the face of your own insecurity - and bring you to the bathroom. A warm shower evens your distorted body temperature out, his hands running over your body and cleaning all the stickiness away bring back peace with your own skin. After a quick rinse Simon holds you, your head cradled against his chest, until you make a weak attempt to help him wash too - he lets you trace his body, that perfection you adore with all its old wounds, sores and scars, for a bit, and then finishes himelf.

Gives you fresh cotton underwear and his hige T-shirt, still holding you around your shoulders and keeping the comfortable pressure even while he changes the bedsheets, kissing your temple as you find it in yourself to help.

It's only after you settle on top of him, nice, clean comforter protecting your back against the world, head on his chest right next to his heart beating in a steady rythm, he finally breaks silence.

"Need anything else, lovie?" Just like that. No prying, no occusations, nothing that would put you on the spot. You can ask him to bring you the moon soaked in unicorn's milk, and he'll just nod, kiss your hand and start dressing up, already calling Johnny to ask where the fuck did Scots hide their last horned horse and if he happens to know where they enlist astronauts.

"Just you."

His grip on the small of your back tightens and you feel his uneven, scarred lips graze the top of your head.

"Ya've got me. Always."

Soap is running hot like a furnace, still shivering and panting after what he considers the best sex he has ever had (every time with you is). He lifts his face, buried into the crease of your neck previously, and starts peppering you with slightly sloppy, grateful kisses - your neck, your jaw, your lips, your...

When he tastes your tears and opens his unbelievably blue eyes to see your expression contorted in disgust, he panics. Pulls away immediately, hands both itching to grab you and shake a reason for that look on your face out of you and too scared to touch you in case this hatred is directed at him.

"Whit's wrong, leannan? Are ye a'right? Ye didnae lik' it? Shite, lass, Ah'm so sorry, Ah didnae mean tae-" He stops yapping only when he notices the way your lips tremble as you try to plead with him, sobbing that it's not his fault.

"'M sorry, I ruined it... I'm so sorry, sushine, I just... fuck I wish I wasn't so bloody sick in the head and ugly..." Speaking out loud only worsens your anger, directed solely at yourself, and you try to wipe your eyes furiously. As the tears keep rolling, your frustration only grows - maybe if you yanked your own hair really good or slapped the disgusting pudgy cheek you've despised ever since chidhood as everyone kept pointing out how big they were...

"Ye didnae just call the love of mah fucking life ugly." Johnny's voice is a mix of a harsh order to cut your bullshit and pure disbelief. His huge paws wrap themselves around your wrists, stopping you both from harming yourself and covering your face. You're forced to look at him, and as you do, you see his handsome face flushed with a passionate anger at the intrusive thoughts in your head, heavy frown in his thick eyebrows and the sea in his eyes dark and deep enough to drown a whole fleet. You'd be scared if it wasn't obvious how hurt he is underneath it all - like a kid whose favourite plushie just got mocked by his classmates.

"It's just a toy," adults would say, and they would be bloody wrong.

"Tis not a toy, tis mah friend."

You're his friend. His love. His heart, his soul, his everything - he whispers that frantically, kissing you over and over, hot palms running over your body, wiping the cold, the stickiness, the goosebumps away. You don't have time to think, to spiral again, you're drowning in that exact sea that's spilling from his eyes, staring at you with pure devotion - a sea of affection, admiration, love, love, love.

Johnny nuzzles up to you like an animal seeking comfort, hides into your chest, right after he kisses your sweaty double chin, breathes in deeply, lets go of your soft shoulders only to grab two handfuls of your tummy, kneading it, warming up the stale blood, squeezing your big thighs between his and getting lost in the frenzy - he honestly doesn't even remember already that he was comforting you, he's fully in the worshipping mode, leaving you no chance to dip even a single toe into the self-conscious thoughts again.

You'll just have to stay there, every single tear lapped up from your face, and accept every greedy touch and word of a man utterly in love with you. Even the messed up parts.

Gaz keeps his cool despite how distraught even the thought of your sadness makes him. First of all he moves aside to give you space, makes sure you're not hurt, asking in his usual kind - unbelievably kind, so much that you burst into tears again, feeling undeserving of such unapologetically soft treatement, tone.

"Shh, shush, gorgeous, you're not hurt, are you? It's okay, c'mere, jus-st like tha', very good, love," praises keep spilling from his tender lips as he carefully helps you sit up, simply dragging you away from the damp from sweat and everything else spot on the sheets. He ends up balancing half his bare ass off the edge of the bed, but it doesn't bother him in the slightest as he feels you already coming back from that hopeless place as soon as your body gets stuck between clean, dry and a bit cool sheet and Kyle's firm lean body of a litearal god - or a prince, at least.

His deft fingers are already at work, massaging your scalp, chasing the tension away, but the second he feels you grow uncomfortable with the repetitive movement, he stops and retreats to simply holding you in a steady, reliant embrace. You know he's good with his words, that's how he got you, swept off your feet completely and made you swoon with sweet compliments, hilarious snark and smart talk.

You just don't expect him to do it all over again in the face of your burdened mind crumbling in the paradise.

"Talk to me, angel. Let me inside that pretty head, hm?"

It takes this sweettalker just a couple of words to coax whatever that ugly, slimy knot in your throat is, out. You sob, retelling Kyle every single thought that has been stuck in that coagulated mess in your head, spill the bile that has been burning your retching throat, out in the open, for him to see the disgusting ugliness of your insides - matching your outside.

Somehow throughout your choking trade his soft, careful hand never leaves your back, rubbing circles of different radius and intensity into your skin to keep the aggression at monotonous touch at bay.

"Must've been some terrible person to overbear your spirit and plant all those lies in your mind, angel." You don't catch the meaning of his words at first, glancing at him confused and whoozy after you exploded with self-deprication. Those dark, calm eyes look at you no different than before: quiet, calm reverence and determination. A thread of spider's silk, thin as a hair, but stronger than steel, his love does not waver. Were you in the right state to actually pay attention, you would've seen it only grow.

"Well, beautiful, this isn't how I planned to start writing poetry, but since you insisted... maybe I can think of a diss track about you."

"A diss track?.." Poor you, so upset that you can't catch onto the mischievous glint in his eyes and that silly smooth sarcasm slipping into his words. You're actually half a step away from believing he would diss you, destroying that already non-existent self-esteem once and for all.

"Yup. Gotta diss-tract you from all that bullshit in your head for good. Unless you'd rather me fuck it out of you instead?"

You cannot not smile at that, even if it's a weak, timid smile. Kyle's face still lights up as if he sees an actual angel, bringing the good grace or whatever.

"There ya go. First step of the mission? Success. Permission to continue? I repeat, permission to continue?"

"You spend too much time with Simon. Permission granted..."

Price undrstands what's going on before he even hears your first sob, the tension in your body and the change in your breath telling him all he needs to know. There's enough experience in this man for the both of you, he has learnt to read people and immediately accomodate them in a way that serves a common goal so long ago that it's a secong nature already.

Your comfort is that common goal.

With a grunt, he rolls you over, planting you firmly on top of his warm, burly body. Untucking your head from his hairy chest, he holds your face and does not let you concentrate on anything but his stern, focued gaze under those bushy eyebrows - but there's still that undeniable tenderness in his eyes that's always there whenever John looks at you.

His voice sounds usual too: a calm, commanding, but not harsh tone, not a loud bark any of his subordinates would hear, yet still an order. "Look at me, darling. Tha's right, look at me, look at your John. You shut whatever's going through that troubled mind of yours out and let me take care of the rest, a'right? Can you do that for me, darling? I know you can. I'll do all the thinking for ya, eh?"

Giving control over to him feels natural at any other moment, but right now you're too deep in the trenches of the war with your own mind, hissing at you with pure disgust for being so selfish. Really, now? Had to use this sweet, caring man for your own needs, and now you're dumping all your perverted, fucked up baggage on him too?

"Nuh-huh, ya're still thinking. Told ya to cut if off. You know that's not you thinking right now, dontcha? You're a smart one, love, ya know shit like this happens. And when shit happens, who are you going to to deal with it, huh?" His deep voice rumbles in his chest, seeps into your clogged ears, fills your skull with the unyielding determination and leaves no room for your own dark thoughts.

When you hesitate to answer, John slides his rough palms over your back, tracing your soft rolls and landing onto the pudge of your hips, squeezing lightly to remind you who's in charge and what your task is. "Who is there for ya to deal with shit that happens, hm, darling? Need ya to tell me."

You want to hide, escape his demand for an answer, but he keeps you firmly in his embrace, a gaze of steel unmoving from you. It almost makes you tear up again, almost feels mean of him to put you on the spot, when all you want to do is curl up in a dark corner and stay there for all eternity. But the love you have for this man overpowers even the seething hatred you bear for yourself, so you give up and murmur meekly: "You..."

"Tha's right, darling, it's your John. I'm here to deal with everything that bothers ya. Everything, ya hear? Tha's me job. Your job is to stay wit' me 'n' not overthink, eh? Especially not when it's just hormons making ya feel bad." You have nothing else left to do, other than sniffle into his chest and melt under a warm kiss he plants on your crown. "How about a cuppa, eh, darling? And something just as sweet as ya for a bite. Ya'll feel better in no time, I promise."

Ghost and Soap cancel each other's panicking out. As soon as both you and Simon slip out of the sweet afterglow, falling backwards each into your own pit of self-doubt and spiraling, Johnny starts babbling, terrified at the thought of both his beloved people feeling worse after being with him. His slurred, panting words and frantic kisses help Simon shake of his own horror - in return, he squeezes Johnny's shoulder to slow the worried mutt down and redirect his energy into helping you. Soap tenses up under the firm touch of his Lieutenant, then relaxes again, leaning into him for a moment to collect himself - they charge from each other, mere seconds of feeding off each other's energies in the middle of a time-limited mission with the highest stakes: your well-being.

They exchange glances, no words needed after the way their work together almost makes them mindreaders to each other, and turn back to you as you lay there, face painfully contorted in an attempt to keep the black foamy bile you feel rising in your throat from spilling. Slow, sticky, angry tears run down your flabby cheeks, and with each millimetre they go, your scalding wish to gouge your eyes out with your bare hands grows, just to punish yourself for being ungrateful after two perfect men spent so much of their time making you feel good.

"Dinnae cry, bonnie. Ye're a'right, ye're 'ere, wit' us. Right, LT? We're nae gonnae let ye marinate in whitevur got ye so upset." The pressure from inside your body that threatened to burst you open into a messy explosion of bile and rot, gets evened out from outside by Johnny's tight hug. He squeezes you up to the painful point, cradling against his broad chest, holding the fort while Simon leaves the bed, but not without kissing both your palms and holding them against his lips until he feels the cold leave your fingertips.

"Oi, Johnny. Help lovie get in 'ere," he calls out several minutes later out of the bathroom. Soap, who has been holding you and allowing you to sob against his heart this whole time, stroking your sweaty hair and murmuring every word of love he knows, scoops you up immediately. He pads over with you in his arms to where a warm bath is already filled thanks to Simon, and when you react to the temperature with another wave of tears, they both reach out to the tap simultaneously.

"Is tha' a'right, bonnie?" You make a strangled noise as Johnny finally sets you down into much cooler now water. It soothes you, makes you feel instantly cleaner, smaller, lighter. Breathing gets easier, that swollen blob of anger and disgust shrinking down in your chest and allowing you to inhale bathroom's damp air normally. You open your mouth to apologize and get cut off before even a single syllable leaves your mouth.

"Don't," Simon's voice sounds gruff, but even his murky reflection in the rippling water looks genuinely soft towards you. They're both perched on the cold bath edge, naked and seemingly not caring about that at all. "Jus' let us take care of you, yeah, love? Tha's what we're here for. Tha's what we want to do."

"Well, actually, there's one more thing," Johnny interjects, causing you to finally lift your sullenly lowered head and look at him, Simon's big palm using this moment of distraction to press onto your back in silent support. "Can Ah make ye a foam beard? Please, bonnie? Ye jus' 'ave the prettiest sweetest cheeks fur tha'."

Soap and Gaz feel like their world is sinking into a whirlwind of stormy clouds, the kind that sucks all light out of sky in mere seconds and can't be cut through even by blinding flashes of lightnings. There is no sun in their skies if you're not smiling, and the sound of your muffled sniffles hits their eardrums harder than thunder or explosions. The frowns distorting their faces only make you more self-aware of the fact that you ruined things between you - the initial hysteria starts rapidly flowing into complete shutdown, threatening to turn you into an emotionless shell for unknown period of time, when several warm, big hands intervene and cut the depressing trajectory down at its root.

"Damn, we did a shit job fucking all your thoughts out, didn't we, angel?" Kyle's joke sounds soft, teasing, but empathetic, ready to be met with sobs or silence instead of the usual laughter that flashes your teeth at him and makes his own smile grow brighter.

"Aye, we did. If anythin', Ah think we put more thoughts intae 'ere instead," Johnny scratches his head dramatically, and then you feel his big, hot palm on you sweaty forehead, as if he's trying to get a feel of the thoughts inside your skull. It doesn't linger there for long, though, rough fidgety fingers digging into your hair and tugging at the roots. This makes the hot-and-cold collar around your nape unclench, uncouth and chaotic massage confidently pulling every ounce of anger out of your brain. From time to time his calloused palm slips lower, squeezing your scruff, wiping the cool sweat away and taking control over what seems to have escaped your own.

"How does it feel to be the first person to get knocked up mentally, love? Having any cravings yet? Feeling your brainworms kick yet?" Dry cotton comforter suddenly covers your exposed to be looked at with disdain body, and before you can choke out a protest and something about you being sweaty and sticky and disgusting, Kyle grips your shoulders firmly, rubbing up and down as he slowly helps you sit up a bit.

"Ye eejit, how dae ye think thay can kick? They're brainworms, thay dinnae hae any legs!" The sheer passion in Johnny's heated counterarguement does the impossible - makes the corners of your deeply upset mouth twitch against all the weight the sadness put on them. Your knights in shining (from all the sweat your lovemaking covered them with) armor of their own warm skin seem to not notice the slightest twitch of your lips - there's no excessive attention drawn to you, none of them puts you on the spot. Their touch isn't going anywhere, but it almost seems mindless, simply their need to have something soft and pleasant to squeeze in their restless hands. "'N' wasnae Mary th' first lassie tae get up th' duff through th' heid?"

"That wasn't mentally, that was spiritually, read your books, Soap," scoffs Kyle, as if it was the most obvious thing, and ducks just in time to avoid a pillow thrown at him with sniper's precision.

"Oi, ye sayin' Ah cannae read now?!" Whatever snarky retort Kyle was ready to shoot, gets wiped out as Johnny tackles him, barely avoiding pushing all three of you off the bed. Their scuffle consists of chokeholds and sneaky kisses, legs getting caught in the sheets and somehow tangling you into the mess too.

Until you laugh, finding yourself squished into Johnny's hairy chest with Kyle in a gently headlock somewhere under your arm.

"Hey, hey, careful, mate, our lovie's expecting, we can't just throw 'em around!" However obvious that deflection is, Johnny reacts as if you were actually with child and grabs your face, boring his eyes into yours, slowly widening his two blue lochs in pretend horror.

"Och naw! Ah think we lost 'em, Ah cannae see nothin' there now!" Flushed after the playfight, you avert your gaze, still a trace of self-consciousness about yout outburst somewhere deep inside, but none of the "brainworms" that clogged your insides in sight indeed. Johnny's little drama earns him a soft nip on his thumb from you, and he smiles at you, clearly satisfied with the effect their little scheme had.

"Aw, damn, and here I was, ready to hear the pitter-patter of 'em little feet," Kyle's warm lips somehow find their way to kiss your temple, eliciting another shy giggle.

A pillow crashes onto both of you with the force of a small bombshell.

"THAY DINNAE HAE FEET, GARRICK, THAY'RE WORMS!"

Price and Gaz fall into their usual ways seamlessly, responsibilities and tasks split between the two seemingly without even any verbal communication. Clearing out the space around you with the same quick efficiency they clear out enemies with, they prop you up on some pillows, assess your condition in case they got carried away and hurt you, and finally settle on both sides of you, warm hands on your knees squeezing softly.

"Are ya gonna talk to us now, lovie? Or will we have to use interrogation tactics to learn what made our love so upset?" John's voice bears no trace of threat, but it still makes you cower and try to take up even less space that your curled up body already has, which earns you a sigh from the Captain. "I see. Take over from here, Sergeant. I expect results once I return."

The matress sighs with relief a Price's weight leaves it, bare feet padding a few steps before he reaches his slippers and leaves the room. The pit that the sound of your bedroom's door closing opens in your chest is crushing your ribcage with the iron fist of vacum. You can't blame John for not willing to deal with your bullshit, but the hearbreak only reenforces the choking smog in your head that's rasping in a hundred different voices that the only thing you deserve is pure repulsion.

Kyle's soft thumb pads wipe the tears teetering on the arrows of your lashes, and in a smooth movement you find your face cupped and pulled close to his shoulder. His smooth skin sticks to your wet cheek and you find yourself crying like a little kid, the unbearable pain of the revolting dark knots inside somehow replaced with surprisingly more bearable grief over what you consider an ending reltionship. Perhaps John leaving our bed finally shattered your heart, letting the ungodly pressure out and allowing it to beat - and bleed - again.

"We'd really like if ya talked to us, angel. Don't think Captain can stand there bare-ass naked much longer, might catch rheumatism at this point, he's not getting younger, you know..."

"I hope you know I can hear you perfecrly clear, Garrick." You stop mid-sniffle, eyes snapping to the closed door. You can finally see the shadow of a man standing just outside, and the air slowly feels with some flavour you can't distinguish through all the snot yet, but seem to like a lot...

"Good, so your hearing's still intact, sir. You're in good shape," Kyle's cheeky remark must've broken John's famous patience and restraint, because the bedroom door finally opens, and you see him there. With a tray with a whole bunch of tea mugs and little plates of treats balanced in his hands.

"Still not talking? Well, we'll try another method then, lovie. Sandwich for your thoughts, eh?"

His cheeks are round with a kind smile, confusing your tortured mind even further - Kyle uses your stupor to fetch John's big, slightly scratchy bathrobe, successfully wrapping you into a cocoon of grounding stimulation all over your feverish skin. With a huff and a grumble about staying butt-naked a bit longer, John puts a pleasantly warm mug into your hands and looks at you, arms crossed and tucked into his armpits now that he got rid of the tray.

Expecting an answer.

"'M sorry..." seems appropriate right up to the moment when a little finger-sandwich gets shoved into your mouth. The bread is soft, nice, salty ham and crunchy cucumber filling your senses and cracking a bit fat line of light right in the middle of the dense cloud in your thoughts.

"Try again, love," Kyle gives a hint and wipes a crumb off your lips, licking it off his thumb. "We don't need an apology, we just want to know what's troubling ya. John, tell 'em."

"Already did," grumbles Price in response and clears his throat, sitting back down on the creaking bed. "Food's working though. Eat up, darling, get your energy. Then we'll talk properly, a'right?"

You chew slowly, still stiff in your own body, but regaining control gradually. Yes. Then you'll talk.

Ghost and Price exchange a single glance over your from, choking on the self-destructive rage, and John shakes his head so slightly that one can barely notice, but it's clear enough to stop Simon from tumbling down the traumatic spiral staircase of his own. Grounded by his Captain's presence, he shrugs his broad shoulders, shaking off the creeping up feeling of his own monsterous nature, and rolls onto his back, pulling you out of the miserable wet ball of wrinkled sheets and onto his firm lap, sideways, his big palms resting comfortably around your hips; he's not squeezing or digging his fingers into the fat like he usually does, but it's a secure hug you can't really escape.

Exposed held too far away from his chest you could hide on, you shrink, rising your shoulders protectively and trying to cover up your soft belly, spilling over your pelvis in a shapless manner - that's when John's arms come from behind, catching yours and instead of pulling away forcefully, simply repeating your own safety cocoon, hiding your body from your distorted sight and keeping you warm.

"You're not thinking straight right now, darling," every phrase he murmurs gently, calmly, convincingly into your ear is accompanied by a little kiss, beard tickling and burning your already irritated by tears skin. "So good for us, so kind. Can you spare some of that kindness for yourself?"

Even though it doesn't sound like a rhethorical question, Simon cups your cheek and shushes you tenderly, pressing his thumb to your lips, allowing John to continue with his little speech aimed to dispel the storm coagulated in your chest.

"'Cos if not, it's a'right, love. We know it's hard, and ya're doing good already. Ya 'ave us, eh? To love ya, to cherish ya. No need to overthink, jus' let us hold you, a'right?"

He finally pushes you onto Simon's chest, his big heart stuttering with worry as you seek shelter among his many scars that paint a horrifying picture once you put all the fragments together.

"How'd you do that, sir?" Simon's voice sounds vulnerable - so much that it strikes through all the layers of your egocentric self-hatred and shifts you almost immeditely into a completely different mindset; one where you throw your whole self into loving your scarred and battle-worn men in such abundance that it's ought to compensate for all the unfairness they've gone through.

There's no need for it now, you realize a little too late: Price is there, keeping Simon away from the darkness. They're fine. Better than ever. It's a distraction, a trick, a play to make your bleeding heart stop the internal self-destruction and turn to healing.

A sly little switch you're not sure they were planning to flip, but it worked.

"Hm?" As if emerging from the depths of his thoughts in response to Simon's question, John caresses your cheek as gently as his rough thumb can and then smiles, maybe catching onto the change in your mood or simply remembering all the times he pulled Ghost out of the same gloom and darkness. "Jus' taking care of me own, Simon. Tha's what a Captain does, no? Now, love, how about a shower? I reckon we can squeeze in all together and papmer you really good, what do ya say, eh?"

Ghost and Gaz manage to keep their cool. Kyle's confident and gentle presence serves to reassure any doubts Simon has about hurting you, he shoots a single glance at his sergeant and recieves support immediately. Two pair of hands cradle you with all the tenderness two soldiers are capable of, which is always enough to drown you in fully. It's a tight hug, a hot mess of limbs, too much skin on skin contact that makes your brain flare with undirected rage, but as seconds trickle by and you're still trapped between two firm bodies, you have no choice but to slip into the exhaustion phase of your outburst.

It's not pleasant, nor could you say you feel calm; if anything, you just petrify, a permanent frown on your face and blindly staring forward glass eyes. You're tired, you'd still rather be anywhere but inside your own body that still feels like a useless deformed bag that should be gutted and emptied to lighten up, inner layer of your skin scrubbed with a knife to peel off the suffocating thickness of fat trapping this heated rage inside...

Instead, you get a kiss.

It's Kyle, soft, full lips touching your wet with tears cheekbone, then again - your temple, your cheek, the overheated spot behind your ear. They're light, soft kisses, too gentle to be playful or arousing. Calming. They do not demand anything in return - he allows you to stay in your inner world where you feel secure, even pauses to kiss Simon the same way right in front of your eyes. A silent demonstrationg of the love and reverence these pecks carry, Simon's hooded eyes fluttering shut as if his own compartmentalized demons get exorcised by Garrick's touch.

"Wanna talk about it, angel?" Kyle's voice rumbles at a nice, grounding, smooth timbre, and your still-too-slow mind struggles to grasp how is it possible that he's talking and you're still getting kisses - until you recognize the uneven texture of Simon's scarred lips, trailing along your skin tenderly. "Whenever you're ready, love. But we would love to know what's going through your head right now."

It feels strange to say it out lound when you're held and caressed like this, but their kisses and solid embrace cleared your windpipe enough of the mental gunk for you to be able to speak.

"I hate myself... 'M disgusting, and-" A displeased grumbling kiss from Simon interrupts you, and even Kyle pushes his huge shoulder to reprimand his own Lieutenant for the interference. Kisses his temple immediately to make amends, though, and turns back to you, prompting you to continue.

"Wot? Don't like when someone talks shit 'bout mine," grumbles Simon like a dog that got flicked on the nose for growling at welcome guests.

"Let 'em talk, mate, it's good to get things off your chest." At least their little bickering coaxes a tiniest hint of smile out of you, and Simon, noticing it immediately, stares back at Kyle with such pride, as if he just did something great.

The thing is, in the way his arms squeeze you a tad bit tighter, pressing into his firm body, you can read that for him - your smile is the greatest achievement.

"Don't tell me you prefer his silent treatement, angel, I'm trying to be the attentive boyfriend here, and for what?" Your smile grows a little braver. A little brighter. You would've kept talking if you could remember what it was that hurt so fucking much in your chest.

"Shower. Then a cuppa. Then we have the talk." No one dares to argue with the Ghost and his gruff commands. You feel the sheet sticking to your skin as he lifts you up, Kyle already sneaking off to prepare towels and clean clothes for you three. He'll stay with you and help you wash the remaints of the mind attack off. Simon will make fresh tea.

You're going to be alright.

Price and Soap take quite an intense approach the second they notice your distress. You feel Johnny's weight disappear from you after the first strangled sob that escapes you, and if you could open your eyes glued shut by the hot, messy tears, you would see John practically dragging the poor Sergeant away by his scruff. It's easy to suspect that Johnny couldn't contain himself and went too hard, too rough on you - with no malice, but pure passion that's spilling from his big, hot heart every time he gets to be close to you.

But it's not Johnny's fault, neither is it John's. It's all you, a useless, pathetic thing, good for nothing and holding two gorgeous men to yourself like a greedy glutton hoarding delicious food.

"Ah'm sorry, bonnie- ow, Ah got it, Ah got it, Ah'm not touchin'!"

"Did we hurt ya, love? Was Johnny boy too rough wit' ya? Wha's wrong?"

You feel big warm hands gliding over your skin, quick assessment of your state in search of potential harm caused. This immediate care only makes you feel worse, every cold sweaty patch of your disgusting hide shivering and twitching under Captain's careful touch. You struggle against your own spiraling anger, fight it with what's left of your exhausted resilience - and lose, curling up with another burst of tears, shoving the loving hands away and dusting the lingering warmth off your body.

After all, you do not deserve to be treated with such kindness after the fit you just threw.

"No, no, no, it's not his fault, it's not Johnny's... it's me, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I ruin everything, I'm- I'm disgusting!"

The silence that follows you blowing up on them is heavy. Just as bad as the knot in your chest.

"Johnny."

When you open your eyes to find a way out, run away, scatter and hide in the furthest corner of the apartment until everyone who tried caring for you leaves again, you're met with Johnny's bright blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

It's a shocking sight, pushing you out of the muffled misery into an alerted worry - his face is red with unexplainable pained anger, fists clenched as John holds him tightly by hunched shouders, seemingly trying to prevent a violent outburst.

"Ah wanntae ken names of th' bastarts who made ye feelin' tis wa'. Ah swear Ah will mak' thaim fuckin' choke oan thair ain tongues, Ah'll rip thair spines oot 'n' shove thaim up thair-" - "Enough, Johnny. Stand down. This won't solve anythin'. Ya calm down and help our lovie feel better, a'right?"

Still a bit shells-hocked, you stir on the bedsheets and push yourself up to sit upright, stretching your arms hesitantly to the men in a weak attempt to remedy whatever shitstorm you caused in their minds.

"Don't get mad, please," you whisper sheepishly, and the shy sound of your still choked voice seems to wash Johnny's explosive anger away better than the firm grip of his handler's (Price's) hands. With a look of a beaten dog, Johnny huffs loudly, cuddlng up to you and hiding his face in your lap. His heavy jaw sinks in the plush of your thighs, accomodated nicely with the softness of your body.

"'M nae mad at ye, leannan. Jus' dinnae say tha' again, a'right, bonnie? If ye need me tae prove ye-"

"No..." your hand finds it place in his damp mohawk and brushes through, while you glance at John. His eyes are shimmering with love and love only as he looks at you and Johnny, and you feel a wave of shyness - the good, giddy, warm kind - replacing the paralyzing shame. "I'm fine already. With you."

"Maybe we should 'ave a little chat 'bout it, love," John's hand meets yours on the sad mutt's head in your lap, intertwinig fingers with you through Johnny's soft hair. "When ya feel better. Jus' so we know what we're dealing with, eh?"

"Yeah. A bit later. Thank you."

All four of your men get frozen witnessing your reaction, struck with a horrifying sense of helplessness - it feels like the biggest failure among many unsuccessful missions, operations where lives were lost and enemies missed, to have you curling up and crying in misery between all the love they've been pouring onto you just mere seconds ago. As if everything they touch is bound to go up in flames, drown in blood and rot, be it on the outside or from the inside.

They're lost, and as always, they turn to the Captain, giving themselves up for him to direct, trusting that he knows better what use they can be of.

And, frankly, he does.

They're barely talking, but the commotion around you is decipherable even through the red mind fog and closed eyes - it honestly only makes you feel worse, unsafe, exposed, despite that simply being Soap, sent off to fill a bath ("Ye want it hot or a tad bit cool, bonnie?" - Silence. Your nails dig into your scalp, the soud of someone simply breathing, even more so talking to you, sending you into a new fit of rage. "Make it warm, Johnny, we'll adjust later."), and Simon, leaving for tea duty - silently, your favourite way to have it attentively observed in the first two weeks you've been together and memorized ever since.

It's Kyle whose voice, murmuring into your ear sweet, reassuring nothings as he keeps you caged in a tight embrace, your back pressed against his warm chest, forces you out of the highly irritable state. You have no choice between his short, chaste kisses on the crown of your overloaded head, and John's calloused hands massaging your calves, soft flesh dipping under the firm pressure.

"Ya jus' focus on fighting tha' storm off, a'right, darling? We'll take care of th' rest. It happens, we know it does, 's not your fault. Jus' a funny lil' thing your mind does, eh? Yeah, love, we know wha' it's like when your mind does funny things. Don't we, Kyle?"

"That we do." Maybe it's just your own depressive state rubbing off on them or distorting your perception, but Kyle's voice sounds almost solemn. You would turn to look into the smoky quartz of his eyes, but either he holds you too tight, or you have barely any strength left in your upset body - you simply can't.

Maybe it's alright. Maybe tonight they don't need you ripping your heart out to tend to their restless minds, and you can just allow them to take care of you.

Allow Kyle to carry you to the bathroom.

Allow John to stay there and help you wash yourself with a nice, scrubby loofah.

Allow Johnny to bring in his huge, baggy loungewear that doesn't hug your curves too snugly and allows you to simply forget what you were so angry about for a while.

Allow Simon to serve you perfect temperature tea in your favourite mug and keep you quiet company on the balcony, night air cooling your wet and clean now skin and hair further and blowing all thoughts out of your troubled head away.

As you share a cigarette with rich clove aftertaste, breathing ironically becomes easier. Behind your back the bedsheets are being changed, proper meal is being cooked, a good movie you won't be upset falling asleep to is being chosen.

"Simon." - "Hm." - "You sure you're okay with me being like that?" - "Standin' in the wind with your hair wet, tryin' to catch a cold?"

You grunt, not appreciating him taking the piss while you're tryig to be vulnerable, but allow him to pull the hood of Johnny's hoodie onto your head.

"No. I mean, fucked up in the head?"

You don't actually know what answer you expect. With an unreadable expression, Simon turns his head, looking through the glass door at the men crowded in the living room and waiting for you, and then stares back at you with a smirk, a permanent scowl carved into it by someone's cruel hand.

"Nah. Tha's how I like 'em."

He throws the cigarette butt away and chuckles, cupping the back of your head and pulling you inside, into the warmth of home.

"Oi, bonnie! C'mere, As saved ye a spot." There is no spot as you look at the two-story cuddle pile on the sofa and the blanket nest in front of it, unless of course... ah, yes, Johnny's patting his lap. "Ah promise Ah'll behave. Mostly."

And as his warmth envelops you through a big hug, his hands clenched humbly on your belly and behaving indeed, you feel stupidly happy.

Because you're enjoying touch again.

[kyliebabe]

Matt sturniolo x reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Matts clearly upset, not letting you know what’s wrong, afraid of being venerable, he opens up telling you how he feels like he’s not good enough, and you comfort him

Warnings: A tiny bit of angst, but mainly just tooth rotting fluff <3

matt crossed his arms, sitting beside you in the back seat after the video was done. he was clearly upset over something. every time you made a comment to nick or chris he would roll his eyes, and he refused to say anything. the minute you pulled in the driveway he ran off inside. He sat in his room scrolling mindlessly on his phone. you mentally groaned as you followed after him.

“hey what up?” I say sweetly sitting next to him on our shared bed.

Matt's posture stiffens, and he tenses up. He slowly turns to face you, his expression unreadable. He hesitates before speaking, his voice cold and distant “Nothing. Just leave me alone.” He turns back to his phone, clearly not wanting to engage in a conversation.

I let out a huff, pouting looking at him, his face visibly upset.

Matt's gaze flickers briefly to you before returning to his phone. He sighs quietly, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. After a moment of silence, he speaks again, his tone slightly softer "Look, I'm just not in the mood to talk right now, okay?"

“okay” I Say softly “are you mad at me?” I say anxiously biting my nail in anticipation, waiting for his answer.

Matt pauses, then turns to face you fully, his expression torn. He lets out a harsh sigh, running a hand through his hair frustratingly. After a moment, he admits softly “I don’t know, maybe.”

“do you want to talk about it?” I question nervously.

Matt pauses, then turns to face you fully, his expression torn. He lets out a harsh sigh, running a hand through his hair frustratingly. After a moment, he admits softly “I don’t know, maybe.”

“do you want to talk about it?” I question nervously.

Matt's expression softens a bit, and he hesitates before speaking. He looks into your eyes, searching for something. He bites his lower lip, then says quietly "It's... complicated. I'm just... frustrated, I guess." He breaks eye contact, looking down at his lap.

“do you want a hug?” I ask with a small smile hesitantly.

Matt looks up at you, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. He swallows hard, then nods softly “Yeah, actually. That would be nice.”

I climb into his lap pulling him into a warm embrace, softly scratching my nails through his hair comfortingly.

Matt's arms wrap tightly around your waist as he buries his face in your chest. His body relaxes, and he lets out a soft sigh. He mumbles into your chest "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you earlier."

“it’s okay honey, don’t worry about it” I softly hum placing a soft kiss to the top of his head lovingly.

Matt nuzzles closer, his arms tightening around you possessively. He tilts his head back, looking up at you with puppy-dog eyes. He pouts slightly "Promise you won't be mad at me?"

“I promise sweetheart” I reply with a loving smile “I would never judge you, if it’s bothering you than it’s important to me” I softly sigh out looking at him with nothing but love in my eyes.

Matt's face brightens ever so slightly at your promise. He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a deep breath, his expression growing more serious. After a moment, he says quietly "I love you."

“I love you too honey, now do you want to tell me what’s wrong”, I ask sweetly.

Matt nods, his expression growing somber. He runs a hand through his hair, then looks down at his lap, collecting his thoughts. After a moment, he speaks softly "I've just... been feeling really frustrated lately."

I nod reassuringly, encouraging him to continue.

Matt looks up at you, his expression conflicted. He swallows hard, then admits "I feel like no matter what I do, I can't make you happy. Like I'm not good enough for you." He looks down again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Matt sweetheart, you know that’s not true” I say with a head tilt my eyes filled with sadness “you know how much I love you right? I would never, ever want to change you, okay? your perfect, and I love you just the way you are” I softly say with a smile.

Matt looks up at you, his eyes glistening with slight tears. He reaches out and takes your hand, holding it tightly. "I know you say that, but sometimes I wonder..." He takes a shaky breath. "I just don't want to disappoint you."

“you could never disappoint me baby, your my future, okay?” I say looking into his eyes reassuringly.

Matt's expression slowly softens, and he nods, his grip on your hand tightening. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. "I love you so much," he whispers. "Sometimes I get scared that I'll mess everything up." His voice is barely audible, laced with vulnerability.

“I get that hun, but I promise you, you could never lose me, I’m in this for life, okay?” I say looking into his eyes.

Matt's eyes well up with tears, and he nods, his lips trembling. He leans in, pressing his lips gently to yours. The kiss is soft and comforting, filled with love and promise.

As I pull away from the kiss I softly wipe his tears “do you know how much I love you?” I question with a smile.

Matt takes a shaky breath, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as you wipe away his tears. "I... I think I do," he murmurs. "But sometimes I need to hear it." He reaches up, cupping your face in his hands.

“you know the highlight of my day is whenever I get to see you, anytime your on your way to pick me up for a date I’m always giddy, like a teenager, I love you so so much and I don’t want you to ever think your not enough for me, okay? No matter what you think about yourself, any of those thing you see as flaws are the things I love about you, because it’s what makes you who you are, and I love that about you, I wouldn’t change it for the world, okay matty?” I say reassuringly looking in his eyes.

Matt's expression softens, and he nods, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that have started to fall from his own eyes. He pulls you into a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "I..."

“it’s okay baby, you never have to thank me for loving you” I reply softly stroking the back of his head.

Matt pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes shining with a mixture of love, gratitude, and lingering vulnerability. "I know, but... I need you to know how much it means to me." He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm sorry for breaking down like this."

“hey, hey, don’t ever apologise this is what I’m here for okay, if you ever feel upset just come to me, your my boyfriend, of course I’m going to comfort you, your the love of my life” I reply looking into his eyes with a smile.

Matt's face breaks into a watery smile, and he leans in to kiss you tenderly. "I love you so much," he murmurs against your lips. He nuzzles into your neck, his body relaxing against yours. "Will you..."

“will I what matty” I reply reassuringly.

Matt takes a shaky breath. "Will you stay with me tonight? I don't want to be alone with my thoughts. They get so loud sometimes, and you're the only one who can quiet them." He looks up at you pleadingly, a rare moment of vulnerability.

“yes of course I will honey, you never have to be afraid to ask, I promise you it’s not an inconvenience I wouldn’t trade spending time with you for the world, okay?” I reply cupping his cheeks softly.

Matt's face crumples, and he buries his face in your chest, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding on tightly as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. "Thank you,"

I hug him tighter, playing with his hair, softly placing kisses on the top of his head lovingly.

Matt clings to you like a life raft, his fingers digging into your back as he continues to cry softly. After a few minutes, he pulls back slightly, his eyes red and puffy. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, wiping away his tears.

“hey no don’t apologise baby, it’s okay, emotions are normal, I would never judge you, I love you so much, all of you” I say with a smile giving him a soft little poke in the chest playfully pointing at him.

Matt gives a watery chuckle at your playful gesture, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Alright, alright, I get it. I'm amazing, right?" He attempts a grin, but it's still a bit wobbly.

I let out a soft giggle at his remark pulling him in for a quick, soft, loving peck on the lips.

Matt's face lights up with a genuine smile, and he pulls you in for a tighter hug. "I love you," he whispers. "More than anything." He takes a deep breath, his body relaxing against yours. "Can we... can we just stay like this for a while?"

“of course we can honey, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else” I mutter comfortingly into his hair before placing a kiss on his head.

Matt nuzzles into your chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. He takes slow, steady breaths, his body relaxing as he clings to you. After a few moments, he speaks softly. "I think... I think I might be falling asleep."

I let out a soft giggle “do you want to move so you’re laying down?” I question with a smile.

Matt nods slightly, his fingers digging into your back as he begins to slide down your body, settling into your lap. "Just like this," he murmurs sleepily, his eyes fluttering closed.

I let him cuddle into me lightly stroking his hair, looking down at him with a loving smile of contentment on my face.

As you stroke his hair, Matt's breathing slows, and he snuggles deeper into your embrace. His face rests against your chest, and he lets out a soft, contented sigh, his body finally relaxing into sleep. "Love you," he mumbles, his words slurred and sleepy.

“I love you more baby” I whisper lovingly as he drifts off to sleep.

Matt's face breaks into a soft, dreamy smile, and he nuzzles closer to you, his body warm and trusting in your arms. As you sit there holding him, you can feel the weight of his emotions lifting, the darkness in his mind receding as he loses himself in sleep.

Sorry if this is bad guys this is my first post lol

Feel free to leave feedback, or any requests 🫶

[matrixbearer2024]

Just something I'd like to say about the Stan twins among other things I've seen here on tumblr and everywhere else. Also because I'm genuinely confused why this is even a thing. I don't really see the point in why people have to look at characters and say: good/bad, nuances exist and morality is mostly grey haha.

One of the reasons why I chose to write for Ford isn't really because I don't think he's a bad person, au contraire I know he's done really shitty things but I don't think he's bad. That would be an oversimplification.

If I had to be completely open about it, his situation is actually pretty similar to mine aside from the fact his sibling is a twin. My brother is two years younger than me.

But still, shit happens. Cornered by everyone and everything, one is labeled as gifted and special while the other is seen as stupid and useless, then the split between family and aspiration.

Granted, I've never made a deal with a demonic piece of geometry and I've gone through a different set of circumstances in a completely different time frame– but still. I get where his arrogance comes from and I get how being outcasted can make you prone to doing a lot of shitty things to chase validation.

God forbid someone comes to you and strokes your ego to death, that's the easiest way to manipulate someone with the picture of self-confidence and it's made of glass.

I can't say that what happened to me was a fortunate occurrence, but I was severely humbled at a young age and it's probably why I turned out differently. Ford never really did, he clung onto the idea of being special and being a coveted rarity.

Point is, I can kind of see where he's coming from and a lot of his fights with Stan I also kind of understand. I'm not condoning his actions, especially because I've had legendary fights with my brother before and remembering them all makes me feel like shit because there are things I've done I can never bring myself to forgive– but it's why I can understand why shit unfolded the way it did.

I'm not even going to go into grudges because I've held a grudge over someone for 12 years so I can also get why Ford would end up doing that for fucking 30– but yeah. I don't think either twin is really right or wrong. Stan got dealt a bad hand like my brother, and Ford got shoved into the limelight like me. I can understand the both of them well.

Also to those who wonder why Stan would even forgive Ford, I don't know what else to say other than it might be a sibling thing. I used to fight with my brother simply because he'd excel better in some of the things I do. I'd purposefully work harder to overshadow him and he knew. He would let me succeed and even rub it in his face because he saw that it made me happy.

Even after all this time he doesn't hold it against me so that's something I'm eternally grateful for. But yeah, he cared that much when all I did was be selfish. I still think it depends on some siblings but yeah, for these two they hit close to home just for doing what they do.

Not to mention, my brother's also had his moments where it looks like he's destroyed my things/projects on the sole reason that he thinks it's taking me away from him. That it's taking his best friend away from him.

One of those times was when I was creating a painting for a competition years ago, he got mad I spent so much time on it and accidentally knocked over the water container and it spilled all over my work. The painting was effectively ruined and I blew up at him for it.

Sound familiar?

Where Stan played off his destruction, my brother kept apologizing and owning up to his fuck-up. Where Ford refused to listen, I eventually just compromised with my brother and told him to help me create the new painting.

That painting didn't win any prizes but still ended up being exhibited, I'd show a picture of it with my brother and I next to it if I didn't like keeping my irl family private online.

Ford also being kind of unable to move on/deal with himself is something I do to detriment. It takes a lot to deal with that, much more overcome it.

Things change, time passes, circumstances shift. But yeah, this is just my two cents on it and kind of a window to why I also write Ford and Stan the way I do.

[warping-realities]

A Night in the Devil's Den - Part I

“I still think we should hit up somewhere else, Jamie. There are tons of bars that would look the other way and let us grab a few drinks.” One of the three young men passing through New York during college break said as they made their way to the old building housing the Devil’s Den, apparently the most hyped club in the city, which had a strict policy of keeping anyone under 21 out.

“Stop being such a fag, Fred! We’re gonna get in, trust me, man of little faith.” Jamie, the group leader with light brown hair, same color as Mark, shot back. Fred, on the other hand, was blond, and more sensitive, which didn’t mean he couldn’t hold his own when it came to arguing; on the contrary, the debate skills of the former debate team captain were legendary.

“Chill, Fred. The worst that can happen is the bouncer looks at the IDs that Jamie’s buddy hooked us up with and realizes we don’t have the right age and kicks us out. But I doubt that’ll happen; in a few months, we’ll all be 21.” Mark commented, always the peacemaker.

“Another reason to wait until we’re actually of age. I don’t want any trouble, guys.” Fred tried to argue again.

“I can’t believe you came all the way here to chicken out, man. If you wanna bail, I’m cool, but think about all the work I put into getting these IDs. And I didn’t even charge you guys!” Jamie grumbled.

“That’s just because your buddy did it for free, asshole. Who the hell is he, anyway?” Mark jumped in before things got heated between the two.

“Some dude I met at the hostel; he’s the one who told me about this place. Apparently, this is the spot for anyone looking for a good time.”

“You mean you trusted someone you barely know? Doesn’t that seem kinda sketchy to you?” Fred asked, outraged, totally shooting down Mark’s efforts.

“I’m sick of your attitude, man! If you’re so unhappy, why don’t you just head back to the hostel?”

“Hey, hey, chill out, you two! We’re here to have a good time! Fred, let’s check out the place, and if we don’t like it or they kick us out, we’ll head back to the hostel, and I promise I’ll be your wingman with those hot Italian chicks who showed up yesterday, alright? And Jamie, you dumbass, he’s not entirely wrong; it was pretty stupid to trust a stranger, but it’s done now, so let’s just try to have fun, please?” Mark chimed in again.

“Fine, but you know that your parents would kill us if anything goes south, Mark.” Warne Fred, whose parents had already passed away, and, in Jamie’s opinion, was the last one who should be worried instead of acting like a little pussy. Not that he’d say that, at least not now that his buddy finally decided to man up.

“Finally acting like a man, Fred, and not like a little bitch!”

“Hey, man, that’s enough!”

“Chill out, Mark; you’re starting to sound like your dad. Sorry, Fredster, I just want an unforgettable night with my best buds.” Jamie said, hugging Fred on one side to encourage him while Mark did the same on the other.

As they approached the ridiculously long entrance line, Jamie commented.

“Since we’re talking about those hot Italian girls, it’s funny that if we were in most other countries, we wouldn’t even need to convince Fred here; we’d all be of age to drink until we drop without a care in the world.”

“I don’t think your dad would be too happy about hauling his kid from the gutter.” Mark remarked.

“He’s not as strict as your dad, man, but yeah… maybe it’s best not to push it. Damn, look at this line! No way I’m waiting all this crap! Oh, wait, I just remembered something; follow me!” Jamie said, signaling for his friends to follow him to the front of the line, where a huge black guy, looking like a muscle mountain, was running the door, checking IDs and occasionally greeting a buddy with a half-smile in his otherwise stern face. He saw the guys approaching and crossed his arms, giving them a menacing smirking look.

“Hey, fellas, what do you want here?”

“Good evening, sir! Jerome told us to go straight to the bouncer at the main door and, said… said that he hopes you have a… a hell of a night.” Jamie said, sounding unsure for the first time.

“Jerome, huh? IDs?”

“Here you go, sir.” Mark replied, handing over the fake IDs, which the guy scrutinized for a few seconds.

“Any problem, sir?”

“Nope, on the contrary, looks like you guys got VIP passes. Jerome must’ve liked you a lot.” He said while fiddling with a walkie-talkie before speaking again. “Jerome’s group is on the way.” He radioed someone before handing the IDs back to the guys and cracking a smile. “Boys, looks like we’re all in for a hell of a night!”

As they stepped into the spacious lobby, the guys were hit with the sounds of music and excited screams, along with flashing lights. And the most impressive thing of all was a guy with olive skin, well-groomed beard and black hair, and a distinctive aquiline nose that hinted at some mediterranean ir middle eastern heritage. But what really stood out about the guy was his stunning build, partially covered by a sharp suit and shiny black pants, with his muscular torso on display for anyone who wanted to see, staring at them with disconcerting eyes and a mischievous grin that made the three feel like they were really inside the Devil’s Den.

“Dude, they really know how to set a mood.” Jamie remarked, eyeing the imposing figure. “Alright, first drinks, then we hit the dance floor for the hot chicks!”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna hit the bathroom; my bladder’s about to explode!” Fred said.

“Then it’s a wonder you didn’t piss yourself from fear before we even got in.”

“Go fuck yourself, Jamie!” he shot back, irritated, as he blended into the crowd on the dance floor.

“You really can’t pass up a chance to be an idiot, can you?” Mark commented, following his other friend through the crowd. “Let me talk to him; you do something useful and grab the drinks. You know a few shots will loosen him up.”

“It’s not my fault he needs booze to stop being a little bitch.” Jamie yelled to be heard over the noise, turning heads with expressions of disbelief toward him, but he was too hyped about the night’s promises to notice, heading for the nearest bar, closely followed by the sinister figure from the entrance. It wasn’t until he reached the bar that he noticed the company.

“Hello, James.” The man said over the cacophony, though his voice didn’t need to rise for Jamie to hear him.

“How do you know my name?” Jamie shouted back.

“Jerome gave me a heads-up about your arrival; I’m Mr. Shay the manager of this place. And I know you shouldn’t be here tonight, kid.”

“Damn… then why didn’t you stop us at the door?”

“Because I understand the need for a young man to rebel. Especially when his dad is such a major buzzkill.” The man said with bright eyes.

“I… he just wants what’s best for me… a decent job for a real man and… and sometimes it’s a drag.” Jamie replied in a whisper, not realizing the man knew way more about him than he should.

“Oh, I get it, kid, and just when you finally have a chance to chill, your friends leave you hanging.”

“Pussies!” The kid grumbled, not seeing the man’s eyes flash dangerously.

“You seem to have a problem with gay people. What’s that about?”

“I don’t have a problem with gays; I have issues with little faggots, those sissy boys who take it up the ass like they’re chicks. My dad raised me to be a real man.”

“But it’s tough living under the weight of other people’s expectations, under the rigid standards taught by someone, isn’t it? Sometimes all you wanna do is chill out, let loose, and be happy, right? And have your friends be able to enjoy that with you.”

“Yeah…”

“Well, it’s settled! Poncho, a shot of tequila for my buddy here.” The man said as the spell seemed to break while he glided through the crowd with ease, almost floating, and for an instant if one looked closely one would catch a glimpse of his true form.

Still a bit dazed, Jamie turned to the bar and bumped into a Latino guy in his late thirties, with a chiseled, muscular chest completely exposed except for a bow tie around his neck, sipping a drink while the shot of tequila the other guy ordered was held in his hand.

“On the house.” The guy said with a smile. Without thinking twice, Jamie downed the shot.

“Nice one, hermano.” The man commented, grinning.

“Gracias, tio.” Jamie replied, smiling as he left the bar with a dreamy look.

There was definitely something extra in that tequila, Jamie’s rational side thought, a side that seemed to shrink more every minute. He wandered aimlessly through the crowd, seeing colors and smelling scents he’d never experienced before, while that rational side tried in vain to shout inside his head, drowned out by an overwhelming numbness.

“Mierda, que guapo…” he murmured in Spanish, watching a muscular guy dancing shirtless. Without even stopping to think how out of character that was for him.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, with an unspeakable desire taking hold of him, making him vibrate and tremble inside he made his way toward the guy, and just like that, in the blink of an eye, Javier, the latino 21 years old man, approached the older man.

“Hey, papi, want some company?” He asked with a vacant look and dreamy voice that the other guy didn’t seem to notice, and in a few seconds, they were both dancing to the rhythm of the music.

“So, kid, where you from?”

“Right here, raised in El Barrio.” Javier answered.

“But where did your family come from?”

“My grandparents came with my dad and my uncles from Colombia in the early 90s. Maybe you know my uncle. He works as a bartender here; they call him Poncho, even though he’s not Mexican, but he says he doesn’t care.”

“Oh, so that’s why a kid like you is in here.” The man commented.

“I’ll show you who’s the kid.” Javier replied, kissing the man, who returned the kiss with passion.

Neither of them seemed to notice that the kid’s shirt seemed to evaporate in the air or the inches he gained in height or the facial hair sprouting on his face. After a long moment of pleasure, the two pulled away.

“So, papi, am I man enough for you?” Javi asked with a grin, while the other guy stared at him, breathless.

“Now I gotta bounce; my shift’s about to start!” Javi said, walking with a smile toward the bar. His muscles growing and expanding into an athletic, well-proportioned physique, with just the bow tie of his uniform to cover up.

“Hey, you didn’t even tell me your name, boy!”

“If you want to find me, just head to the bar. And don’t call me boy; do I look like a kid to you?” He replied, flexing his muscles. Only a man could call him that, and that certainly wasn’t this one.

When he got to the bar, his uncle greeted him with a smile but also with a warning.

“If your dad finds out about this…”

“What my dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him, tio. Plus, next year I’ll be graduating, and the boss is gonna put me to work in accounting, although I think I’ll still take a few shifts with you just for fun.”

“Javi, you really don’t get it, do you? If not your dad, then because of that musclehead you’re seeing.”

“It’s his fault for not showing up yet. And right when the main attraction’s about to start.” He said, looking at the club’s stage lighting up. “Though to him no attraction compares to my ass.” He concluded with a grin.

[demon-country]

One of the saddest parts of the stolitz miscommunication debacle to me is that for all his bluster and all his denial, Blitz never managed to fool anyone into believing that there were no feelings involved and he was doing it solely for the book, including Stolas. That is, until Ozzie's, at which point he finally fooled the one person who he didn't even think he needed to.

For all we talk about how Stolas let his fantasies of romance run wild, which caused him to accidentally run roughshod over Blitz (especially at first), he wasn't exactly wrong, in the end. Blitz did develop feelings for him, and given how excited and enthusiastic he was that last full moon, their nights together were probably the only times he felt safe actually showing that. Because he could always tell himself and everyone else that it was just an act, he was just giving Stolas what he wanted and keeping him satisfied enough that he'd let Blitz keep the book.

Stolas thought, up until Ozzie's, that Blitz enjoyed their deal just as much as he did. Because Blitz did. If Blitz was showing up basically every moon as hyped and ready to go as the time we saw him, it's not really a surprise that Stolas didn't catch on to the times when Blitz was actually unhappy and uncomfortable because he felt objectified. After all, Blitz snaps at and is abrasive to everyone, and any annoyance probably seemed pretty par for the course, especially for someone as oblivious, ignorant, and autistic-coded as Stolas. But Stolas also got special treatment on top of that, and it's easier to focus on the stuff that stands out rather than the stuff that doesn't seem too far off from Blitz's standard behavior. He got times where Blitz was genuinely happy and comfortable and excited to see him, we literally see that in the memory fragments and Blitz's behavior during the last full moon. He got times where Blitz seemed to find him so hot he'd grab him and turn things sexual on a dime (Truth Seekers and The Circus). He also got times where Blitz was caring and attentive, and where Blitz accepted care and gentleness during aftercare (because there's literally no way that didn't happen, not getting aftercare after BDSM scenes can be legitimately traumatizing for both the Dom and sub).

Like, that's not to say that Stolas shouldn't have taken the numerous hints that his condescension and baby talk were highly unappreciated, because yeah that shit was very uncool of him and ignorance doesn't excuse it. But look at how Blitz gently caresses Stolas' cheek in Truth Seekers. Look at how thrilled he was to be with Stolas again in The Full Moon. Look at the photo Stolas has of the pony drawing Blitz seems to have made while at his palace. Look at the memory fragments where Blitz is so fucking into kissing him or gleefully showing off toys or making that big shiny eyed blep I'm dying to know the context of. How else was Stolas supposed to take all that every full moon and however many nights Blitz came over outside of that, and not be convinced that his feelings were returned?

Because they were. Not immediately, of course, but the were. They were on the same page about that. There were plenty of things Blitz didn't like, related to Stolas' unconscious racism/classism. There was plenty of "things for [Blitz] to teach and [Stolas] to learn". There were plenty of things that went unsaid and unheard and misinterpreted on both sides. But the love was there, Stolas didn't make it all up. It wasn't the perfect fantasy he was initially picturing (although I'm pretty sure that illusion didn't actually last very long, not with how dejected he looks in a few of the memory fragments and at the start of Ozzie's), and Blitz had a lot more hidden under the surface than Stolas knew about (although he did know Blitz had walls he hadn't seen through yet), but the love was there. You don't have to know everything about someone to start falling in love with them. Blitz couldn't fool anyone, but he especially couldn't fool Stolas, who he showed his heart to again and again thinking he was safely hidden behind the alibi of the book deal.

Until Ozzie's. Until the disastrous "date", after which Blitz couldn't hide the hurt he felt thinking that all Stolas wanted him for was sex, when Blitz wanted more. Except Blitz didn't say that last part. So all Stolas got was Blitz ignoring him on their date, Blitz rejecting his offer to go inside, and Blitz tearing up while saying in a wounded and borderline angry voice that their deal was strictly about sex, which finally clued Stolas in that his actions hadn't been taken as cute and flirty like he had intended, they had just served to hurt Blitz and convince him that all he wanted was to use Blitz.

Blitz's pain changed everything for Stolas. He stopped flirting, he stopped calling him Blitzy save for one time, he stopped most of his interactions with Blitz, and he started trying to give Blitz outs. He looked at all the times Blitz was annoyed at him, at how umbalanced their deal was, and at how it may have been just as cruel of a chain as the one binding him to Stella, and quite correctly came to the conclusion that the deal needed to end and Blitz needed to have a way to do his job without being dependant on Stolas. But he also looked at all the memories of Blitz being happy with him, and all the times Blitz showed up excited, and came to the incorrect but reasonable conclusion that it was all probably just an act Blitz put on to keep the book. Just like Blitz had been hoping to convince everyone of.

And then Stolas ended the deal, and Blitz couldn't figure out why so he started to panic. The deal was his safety net and his shield; it was the only way he felt he could get something close to the real relationship he wanted, it was what allowed him to be open with his feelings, and what gave him the courage to let some of his walls down. It probably felt like such a betrayal that Stolas would take it away.

Even though he was the one who dodged all of Stolas' offers to talk, out of fear that things would become complicated if they talked about it, out of fear of rejection after Stolas hid during their "date", and later out of guilt and shame for how he failed to save Stolas. Even though he was the one who was hiding behind the excuse that it was all just for the book. Even though he was the only one convinced that Stolas could never care about him for anything other than sex. Even though Stolas flat out told him he cared about him and wanted him to stay, just without the deal in between them. Even with all that, Blitz still couldn't see Stolas ending their deal any way other than Stolas abandoning him and rejecting him and taking away the only way he has ever been able to openly show that side of himself.

It was more than just his self-hatred talking, it was more than just his insecurities getting the better of him. It was a perceived betrayal of trust and an inability to see how much the deal limited their ability to get what they both actually wanted. The reason it hurt him so much was because Stolas hadn't actually been wrong. Blitz did care, Blitz did enjoy their deal, Blitz did want Stolas just as much as Stolas wanted him.

The tragedy of it all was that the love was real, but the only ones who were convinced it wasn't was the two of them. So it's a good thing the story isn't over for them yet, because I couldn't take that ending for them. After all the shit they've been through in their lives, they deserve their happy ending together, they deserve to have their mutually requited love be realized.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

after reading the ending and seeing the meltdown on twitter over the mistranslation before the official chapter it's just kind of annoyed me how people view gojo as some perpetually insecure, self deprecating dude when he was never that.

Ofc geto's defection fucked him over and that loss of a valuable bond was the guiding force behind a lot of choices he made in life but he was always, always fond of jujutsu itself, it's the orthodox structure and lone burden on his shoulders he disliked.

Even nanami clocked him for that in 236. That he enjoyed the thrill of sorcery. I hate satoru's uwufication (and don't get me wrong he's very much my cutie patootie) but to view his complexities as just insecurities is such a narrow view.

It's also why it didn't really surprise me when he "went south" in 236. So many people called his confession in that chapter ooc but in my opinion that raw vulnerability was so intriguing and on brand for him lol. Loving the fight, not being able to hate sukuna, trying to reach him through his skills, admitting the distance he created with others because the gap was just that big, and choosing to stay in the blue spring this time because that period was the most blissful time of his life..it's the first time he chose himself and chose life as Satoru and not just as the strongest.

And to see this same effect happen during the leak mistranslation with so many gojo stans babying him again and it was so..like bro 😭 are we sure we read the same content

THIS . THIS . THIIIIIIIS

anon thank you for putting this into words bc i have been struggling to do the same 💀 but i absolutely agree!!! i also have a big issue with people viewing him as insecure or sad because i truly think gojo was fully comfortable in his own isolation . he’s never pitied himself, and that makes him more tragic, not less. the mistranslation thing in 271 with ’i also have love and dreams’ just made me sigh because that’s just something gojo wouldn’t say 😭…. obviously he has dreams and he has love but he’d never frame that sentence in such a self-pitying way — he’s only telling yuji to carry on his dream if he dies. that’s all.

i can’t explain it super well but to me the greatest tragedy of gojo’s character is that he so rarely gets upset over his own situation — he’s been used and abused in plenty of ways but i don’t think he actually minds, because that’s all he knows. he’s staggeringly mature and resigned and that’s an aspect of his character i think isn’t talked about enough. he even finds joy in his own situation, through fighting and teaching, despite how much weight he has to carry. how overworked he is. ’one must imagine sisyphus happy’ applies really well to gojo, i think…….

and that’s why a lot of fandom takes just . irk me 😭 the truth is that gojo probably wouldn’t mind having his body used after death. and like he himself says in 271 — he doesn’t mind if people forget him. that’s just the kind of guy he is. he’s tragic in the sense that he goes with the flow and accepts the reality of his own existence without wishing for anything different. i think he did have hope that he wouldn’t have to be alone when he was with suguru, but after his defection that hope disappeared. suguru’s importance to satoru is one thing i don’t think anyone can ignore, but i don’t think he turned into some kind of empty shell after he left, either — suguru was simply the end of satoru seeking out meaningful, equal human connection.

…… until sukuna :3c

which!!! for the record!!!!!! i 100% agree with you on. 236 is one of my favorite chapters and i will literally fight the ooc allegations until the day i die bc i don’t think they understand gojo 💀 sorry to say. him finding value in fighting someone like sukuna makes all the sense in the world considering he’s the closest thing satoru has gotten to being on truly equal grounds with someone. and the fact that satoru wanted to teach sukuna about love speaks volumes about his character, how much he detests the isolation of strength. satoru isn’t a saint, but he’s a good guy with very particular motivations. and him finding peace in the bliss of his youth, right after being referred to as ’satoru gojo’ by sukuna …….. must have felt soooo liberating. criticisms about the aftermath of his death aside, i do think this was the happiest ending for someone like gojo.

i will say that nanami’s comment in 236 is often misunderstood as well — he’s specifically talking about teen gojo, not adult gojo. adult gojo fights for plenty of things, not just the thrill — but obviously he still enjoys that even now. i think a lot of people make the mistake of either viewing gojo as some morally corrupt fight loving feral maniac (which is just plain wrong), or viewing him as this sad, sad man who never wanted to fight (which is also plain wrong)…. he’s a deeply tragic character with a lot of kindness in his heart, and even at the very end i don’t think he was truly sad over his own circumstances.

i hope . that was semi-coherent ;;; sorry for just hijacking your ask anon but this was a good opportunity for me to talk about some things that have been bugging me for a while 😭 gojo is a wonderfully written character and i don’t think he was ooc even in 271 (though the talk with yuji felt sloppy to me in execution), i just wish his death had been handled as well as it deserved to be ….

[smolandweirdwriter]

The bad kids are all best friends, but some of them don't have many canonical scenes together, and I think Adaine and Gorgug are the least seen with each other among the rare duos. But those two are pretty emotionally smart, so I think they'd realize that and decided to hang out

Got any ideas about shenanigans they might perform together?

adaine canonically loves gorgug's parents for their kindness to everyone, which especially shines through in how much they care for their son. throughout her freshman year, adaine would most often crash at gorgug's place. it was marginally closer to get to, and safer, at least compared to strongtower. the little folk are peaceful.

the first time Adaine was at Gorgug's house with all the others, Wilma and Digby noticed how formal, and then perplexed, and then saddened she was in the span of meeting them. when they overheard her say things like "wow your parents are so sweet!" and "I love your parents!" they weren't just proud or happy. at least, not only that. soon after they were a little concerned, especially with how eager she seemed about it. as though they were unconventional in their kindness. they asked gorgug about it afterwards, and he frowned a little. "I dunno," he said finally. "I think elf parents are kinda... mean to their kids? Like it's a cultural thing or something?"

Well, that definitely didn't sit well with Wilma and Digby. And it definitely didn't sit well with Gorgug, now that he realized it. He asked Adaine about it the next day, and she admitted it with a mixture of loathing and sharp self-awareness. She didn't cry, but she didn't exactly brush the issue off either. Gorgug didn't know what to do, he'd never had a friend, let alone one with abusive parents. He'd always thought his anger was a bad thing, but now it consumed him with unbridled outrage. He wanted to storm into the Abernant house and rip it apart with his bare hands. He wanted to take his friend behind him and keep her safe. He wanted to hug her so she was there with him and not alone and cold and scared and mad. She didn't need to be mad. She didn't deserve it.

But Gorgug knew he couldn't do any of that. So instead, he offered what he knew he could: "If you ever need some place to stay, you know where I live."

Adaine smiled. "Thanks, Gorgug. But I'll be alright."

A few days later, the bad kids had been out late on their quest to find out more about what would later be known as the Kalvaxus Caper. actually, they weren't even "out late". it was about 6pm, but school had let out around 3, so their parents were nonetheless reasonably worried about where the hell their children were.

as everyone was peeling off to head home, only adaine and gorgug were left. gorgug noticed adaine just standing there, not going home yet. "hey, what's wrong?" he asked.

"My parents are gonna kill me. I'm so late. The bus won't take me home now, it'll take forever to walk, we're halfway across town, I'll miss curfew because I was out adventuring --" she said "adventuring" like it was something to be mocked, something foolish that only a child would partake in "--I'm going to be grounded forever... I can't go home, Gorgug, I can't."

Gorgug cocked his head. Two choices, then. Take her home. Or... Take her home.

"You wanna, uh, stay over at my place?"

So Adaine followed Gorgug home. The Thistlesprings had cooked a thick, stewy soup with chunks of meat and vegetables that smelled amazing. They saw Adaine come in and quickly fixed her up a bowl alongside Gorgug's. Wilma and Digby ask her all sorts of questions -- What sort of magic does she do? Are her family wizards too? Where do they work? When do they leave home? How susceptible are they to gnomish-made ballista being fired right at them? What does she like to eat? She looks like she doesn't eat enough, she should come over more and they'll make her nice, home-cooked meals. hey, she used to go to Hudol, what was it like? What's Aguefort been like for her, is she liking it? how about the classmates, anyone nice outside her party? anyone very nice? has she had "the talk" yet--

at that point, gorgug's face goes bright red and he tugs adaine away before they can pull out The Binder. adaine giggles as she's led into gorgug's room. he offers her a pair of his pajamas, which are far too big on her, but she likes that. it's kind of like being wrapped up in gorgug's hugs--enveloped completely. she has to roll the sleeves all the way up so she can even get her fingers out, and the pants still trail on the ground a little.

they spend the rest of the night talking and chatting sprawled across gorgug's bed.

situations like this become far more common throughout freshman year. the thistlesprings want to adopt her, but she's not even technically a Solecian citizen, and it would make the whole "diplomatic immunity" thing so messy. she goes home on the weekends, because she has no choice, and when her parents get force her to stay home because "we're your family and we never see you. i swear, you're so ungrateful sometimes, adaine. what, is it so awful to have dinner with us?"

on her own, adaine begins learning orcish and gnomish so she and gorgug can talk, and so she can better thank and communicate with the thistlesprings. she teaches gorgug some elvish too, and they begin communicating by blending the three languages together in a way that makes no sense to anyone other than themselves.

for his part, it's gorgug who helps adaine become more physically strong, because he's worried about how angry his friend gets, and how that anger sometimes spirals into panic, or vice versa, so he teaches her how to throw a punch, how to block a hit, how to fight with a sword. he is never prouder than the moment he sees adaine's fist collide with her sister's face at ostentatia's party.

for her part, adaine and gorgug do homework together often when she's there, and it's by watching her do magic that gorgug becomes so enraptured by it. he's constantly asking her how spells work, how she knows what level she's casting them at, how she remembers them all. adaine attempts to explain it, and she does so by comparing it to his parents' tinkering. she's just putting pieces together and binding them--her "pieces" are less tangible, but they're still a part of the greater universe around them. gorgug really wants to learn wizardry, but he's not too fond of the abstract. he likes adaine's explanation, though. he begins thinking about tinkering. he begins thinking about machines and the tangible and the world and breaking things and putting them together and making something new. he thinks about family.

fig is an excellent lyricist, but she's not a very skilled composer. gorgug, meanwhile, it fantastic at putting lyrics to music. he loves it. he has just the right ear for it, for knowing where something needs a little aid, where he can boost something so it reaches its full potential. he's also a great backup vocalist. but he's sorta afraid to mention any of this to fig, because she invited him to be in her band, and she was so nice about helping him, and he doesn't wanna overstep. when shes over at his house one day, adaine sees a piece he's composed lying on the desk. she doesn't read it, to respect his privacy, but she notes that it's clearly composition, and asks about it. gorgug awkwardly admits that he's been working on something to go with a piece fig wrote, because, and not to imply he doesn't think fig's great, he loves fig so so so much and he's so grateful to be in her band, but, well, she composed about half the instrumental bits but they're just a little wonky and so he dabbled a little bit in pairing the lyrics with music, but please don't tell fig, adaine, it's not like I've done any better than she has or could.

adaine blinks. "you're awfully anxious, aren't you?" she smiles, sits down on the bed next to him, and says, "Gorgug, if you don't try, you're never going to know if it's any good at all."

so he shows his composition to fig. who immediately tackles him into a hug and screams "THIS IS PERFECT!"

Gorgug blushes and says, "Adaine helped me with it."

Fig recruits Adaine to help them write and compose. Adaine declines. "But if you ever need a tech person once you start really performing," Adaine says, "I'd love to do stage effects for you."

Actually, Adaine, as it turns out, does rather like helping Gorgug compose music. This stems from the fact that she grew up listening to exclusively pretentious high elven music, which she does rather like, but she also becomes pretty fond of heavy metal the likes of which gorgug blasts. she has a playlist called "studying evocation magic" that one would expect to be full of classical music. it's entirely head-slammer metal and rock that gorgug helped her compile.

Adaine goes to Gorgug a lot when she can't figure out spells. She gets lost in the little intricacies and complications of things, and he's very good at looking at the thing as a whole and seeing what's missing. he sees it very technically, which she finds relieving. so much of magic is abstract, but with gorgug everything is right with you, a physical thing.

when adaine kills her dad, gorgug isn't so sure she's okay. everyone else is cheering and hugging her, but gorgug has spent the most time around adaine's violence. her fear. he knows theres something deeper here. so when he gets a chance, he pulls her aside and asks how she's doing. adaine crumples into his side, sobbing, gripping his sweatshirt because it's soft and smells like grass and the woods and something else too, like going home after a long day, like people who want you to have clean clothes because they care about you and not your appearance. "Why did I have to kill him?" she asks, and he knows what she's really saying. Why did killing him have to be the only option?

"I don't know," he whispers. "Is it better that he's dead?"

Adaine swallows. Chokes on a lump of tears. Says: "I hope so."

gorgug and adaine who understand each other. gorgug and adaine who have sleepovers and climb the thistlespring tree and learn together. gorgug and adaine who have a secret language. gorgug and adaine who, of all the bad kids, know the least about their respective sexualities come junior year. riz and fig have been learning about aromaticism/asexuality and pansexuality since sophomore year, and kristen has been out since freshman year, and fabian has gotten over aelwyn and has confessed that he might have had the most massive crush on riz, and is still not over him, but that he really really doesn't want that to get in the way of their friendship, and that he supports riz's sexuality whole-heartedly, and he's realizing how lame his desperation for girls who treat people like shit is because he's realized he doesn't need to feel special just because someone who likes no one likes him, and he's falling for mazey, and that's okay.

but adaine and gorgug?

zelda breaks up with gorgug the summer of their junior year. and honestly? gorgug tells adaine in the workshop of the thistlespring tree late at night as they work together on the solar lasso. i sort of always saw it coming.

there is a dull hum of arcane electricity around them. save that, all is silent. silent, when adaine thinks about how people should care and don't and fall apart and break and how you can want to love someone and still run away. she does not understand it.

did you love her? she whispers, not looking over at him as her fingers turn a a piece of scrap metal over and over, not working on anything, not trying to fix anything. just hoping. just wishing. just wanting to know what love is.

i think i liked that she liked me, gorgug said. and i think i liked being around her. and i liked the... he glances over, blushing. Sorry. Riz is not vocal about his asexuality, and most of the time he is quietly uncaring when they talk about sex. it doesn't bother him to hear about--it's a part of life. still, gorgug tries to keep the others from talking about it around him. adaine, gorgug does not know if she's ace or not, and doesn't care if she is or isn't, but she gets uncomfortable, even a little disgusted, around talks of such things, so he tries to keep them to a minimum for her, too.

but this night, adaine shakes her head, her glasses glinting in the darkness. it's okay. you liked her. you liked sex. but did... what did... she clenches the scrap of metal in her fist, frustrated at her inability to form the proper words. the metal bends and crumples in her palm, and she blinks, unfurling her fingers to see broken shards of metal in her hand. she is still not used to her own strength. she has still not realized she's not really the girl she was years ago. but she is learning who she is, and maybe that's okay too. what was it like? liking someone that way? wanting someone... that way?

it was nice, gorgug says back. it was really nice. he shakes his head. but i think it was more than just... physical. i think she fell in love with me because i was nice to her. and she... sometimes she acted like that niceness was something i only did for her. and if i cared about other people, it was like i didn't care about zelda enough? or something? and i didn't really like that. and she didn't really like that i... that we...

that you were something other than zelda donovan's boyfriend? adaine offers.

he nods. yeah. a pause. i really liked her, though.

adaine taps his hand with hers. a question. he slips his fingers into hers. an answer. she squeezes. he squeezes back. I'm sorry.

gorgug comes out to adaine first of all their friends. he's bi, he tells her. adaine, not sure what to say, goes: "Congratulations". They both laugh. she still doesn't know what she is. she's still not sure she wants a label. he tells her that's okay. she asks if he came out because he has a crush on someone in his fancy new artificer class. gorgug blushes and shoves her playfully. (when he kisses unit later that year, adaine is unsurprised. he seems like gorgug's type.)

when oisin's ruse is revealed much later that year, adaine is not sad. she isn't hurt. she's violently, horrifically angry. so is gorgug.

they are on a boat. they might die. Oisin's voice rings out, Oisin's call. Adaine's face blanches, and Gorgug understands that whatever he messaged her, it means someone is about to die. and it won't be adaine.

it will be a white dragon, to his axe. it will be another, hit by the boat. it will be oisin, it will be oisin, it will be oisin. it will be oisin, for his friend who did not know what love felt like. it will be oisin, for his friend who did not know if she wanted to kiss someone. it will be oisin, for his friend who is easy to love. it will be oisin who dies, and he will enjoy it. and rage is not bad, because rage protected adaine, who should not have needed to protect herself.

and after everything has calmed down, they will eat ants on a log in his bedroom and write music and practice magic and spar and laugh.

oh, also: adaine and gorgug both get overstimulated easily, and gorgug always has a plethora of headphones and fidgets, and adaine goes to him for them constantly. they also both conducted an experiment together once where they attempted to communicate with people inside her jacket. it didn't go super well, but it was certainly fun!

and of course, adaine/ayda/gorgug friendship is a top-tier one. fig's magic is innate, but the trio's magic comes from studying and observing, and they all like to talk about it. sometimes they gossip. sometimes it's about fig. it's never mean--actually, usually it's just about how much they like fig. but they all get together pretty often to just jam out some spell stuff together.

[mdhwrites]

May I ask your opinion about Camila as a mother? To me, she is a great mom with good writing. My only gripe is in the first ep when she's okay with Luz discarding her Azura book in the trashcan. It's Manny's gift for Luz.

This one is... Complicated. And I think we're gonna disagree hard on it just by what you consider your one gripe to be.

What is a parent's duty? This is a very, very important question to ask with this. Because, you know, as a friend, Camila is amazing. She's endlessly patient, endlessly kind, I call her a saint because she is just perfect. She has no flaws by the end of the show and scolds herself for the literal ONE TIME she ever tries to reign Luz in.

Reminder: In the first episode, Luz brings wild animals and fireworks to school without permission or without any regard to safety. She inadvertently assaulted MULTIPLE PEOPLE with those snakes because we see more than just the principle being attacked by them. We also know this isn't a first time thing because of the SPIDER SWARM. If I had been in the classroom with Luz for the spider swarm, I would have had a straight up panic attack because I, like many others, have arachnophobia.

A parent's core job, only below keeping their child alive, is to prepare them for the world. To make sure they understand right from wrong, that they understand how society works and how to handle it, how to be themselves while not hurting others, etc. like that. I'm not saying that they must make their children conform but, you know, people still have to be a part of society. To know when their freedoms come against others. Because, sure, you can release spiders into a classroom but when half the parents of the students in that class want you expelled, that is entirely in their right because you did not consider, for a second, anyone other than yourself.

At this, Camila is an abject failure by the end of the show. She actually starts really good though. Now, throwing away Manny's gift is... Yeah, that's real questionable but also Azura being from him feels like a complete retcon, especially since Luz doesn't actually hold that series that close to her. She is a pretty flighty fan and in S2, Amity does WAY more for being excited about Azura than Luz does which, you know, is kind of odd if this memento of her father means that much to her. No, in the context of S1, it's the right move. Luz has crossed the line where she is treating reality like fantasy. She thinks she can just do this stuff and it'll be fine because her perception is at best flawed. So yes, Luz needs to wake up. She needs a chance to get a reality check and Camila doesn't even ask for a huge one. She will be happy if Luz makes friends because in order to make friends, you have to meet them halfway, start showing real compassion, empathy, etc. like that, traits Luz is tragically devoid of early on. It's a good goal for not pressuring Luz too hard.

And then Luz goes to a magical world where she gets to live out the life of an isekai protagonist who by the end of the series is willing to condemn an entire world to death just because she's afraid of making another mistake and having to pay for the consequences of it. To say that's missing the point is a bit of an understatement. And I cannot emphasize this enough. She decides on her own, because she feels bad for having made a decision on her own that went poorly, to avoid all consequences for that decision and just stay home with her loving mom while leaving her friends ostensibly to go die because she admits herself that the Collector is terrifyingly powerful. That is not martyrdom, that's self pity with the veneer of sacrifice. It is still not an empathetic worldview that cares about others, reinforced in For the Future where she goes "I'm going to check and make sure King and Eda are okay and then I'm going home." She talks a much bigger game to Boscha but to her mom who knows the truth? It's to check on the people SHE cares about and then leave. All of them. The whole world doesn't matter to her. That's fucked up.

And THAT is the version of Luz that Camila APOLOGIZES to. And for what? Sending her to camp which was her just trying to get Luz to properly connect with reality ONCE. Because again, otherwise Camila has endless patience. She never brings up the promise after all, she doesn't question taking in these kids or the weird lizard girl who's been impersonating her daughter, Camila defends Luz's creativity at every step, etc. etc. She is Luz's biggest defender in the series... And still apologizes for the one time she criticizes her. The one time she arguably does her job as a mom.

That to me makes her a bad mom. Arguably, even worse than Odalia. Odalia is a WAY worse person, but as a mom? I've made blogs about the fact that the fandom projects a lot onto her, incorrectly so, and that by the standards of her own society, she is mostly just trying to protect Amity and help her succeed. Oh, what terrible goals! Yes, she's too controlling and applies too much pressure BUT AT LEAST SHE'S TRYING. And if it feels like I talk a lot more about Luz in this blog than Camila... Well, it's a parent. Their job is to raise children. So we have to look at the child as a part of the evaluation.

And Luz? Luz needed a parent, not the two friends she got out of Eda and Camila. But apparently a parent is not what anyone wants. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I do want to add that I don't know where to put the fact that Camila is a single mom here because it's very complicated. It's good on her that she has the income to let Luz have expensive hobbies, do what she wants, have a house to live in, be there for all of Luz's events, meetings, etc. like that. She replicates what two parents give pretty much all the other kids in the show so well that it feels more like an oversight than anything else. Also, yes, it's good that Camila keeps Luz happy and healthy but that doesn't really change the fact that she is failing to raise Luz despite having all this time and resources to facilitate keeping Luz happy. However, I've seen the problem with that as a kid's parent would just let them watch tv and play video games with them and left it up to the kid's grandma to treat them how to read and write. Guess what activity made the kid happy versus what activity helped the kid grow as a person. And yes, that parent WAS a single mom and I judged them harshly then too.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

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[changingplumbob]

The rain wasn't all bad, it made the plants grow after all. It made Glenn feel refreshed as well, like having a good shower. It also encouraged the frogs to come out. One rainy morning Glenn headed down to the river, feeling the normal walking through mist feeling as he passed through the barriers. He'd decided to stick with his umbrella. Normally he didn't have a problem getting rained on but he was having a particularly good hair day and did not want to ruin it. Sure he could cast a barrier to keep the rain off but he didn't want to run in to any humans obviously dry in the pouring rain, too many questions could be asked.

On the other side of the river Silver had noticed something moving through the rain. The last week or so here had been peculiar. There were certainly less people and also less animals. The big trees in the middle of the park that should be teeming with birds were bare, everything choosing to roost just beyond the empty park. Wiping the rain off his face to try get a better look his breath caught in his throat. The scent on the air... it had been at Grayson's house. It had to be someone from the crew or... green hair? No he was seeing things. It couldn't be, he wasn't that lucky.

Glenn: Froggies? Anybody hiding in there for me today?

Silver stilled. The voice was definitely the same as it had been on the TV. It had to be Glenn.

Silver knew he wanted to go talk to him. While he was happy Glenn didn't end up with Grayson it was clear from editing the spellcaster had left heartbroken. It would just be good manners to check in, right?

Glenn: Come on out little dudes. I promise I won't go throwing you in any potions

Silver smiled to himself. Glenn liked animals? That was good. He hadn't been sure with Glenn not talking to Olive but he supposed there could have been a million reasons for that.

Glenn: I really just want to help you fulfill your biological urge to reproduce. Don't you want to come with me and woohoo and make tadpoles in safety?

But how could he introduce himself? Silver didn't dislike people but he'd been on his own for so long. His socialising skills were rusty to say the least, and people tended not to like his blunt and direct nature. Normally he didn't care, he didn't like people back but... something inside him wanted to make a good impression. He did a last spot of grooming to make sure he was presentable, then it was time.

Glenn had just scooped up the last frog when he heard disturbance in the water behind him. Straightening up and turning around he was shocked to see a tall handsome man standing in the rain smiling at him. Was he actually dreaming right now?

Silver: You look even better in person

Glenn: Thanks? Do I know you? You look kind of familiar

Silver: Oh, right, you're meant to say hello first. Hello Glenn. I'm Silver. I'm ah... I'm Grayson's brother

Glenn: Grayson's brother? I didn't know he had-

Silver: He thought I was dead

Glenn: Oh that's- wait. You said I look better in person. Did I look bad on the TV? *panics*

Silver: *chuckles* You looked good

Glenn felt his cheeks heat up. He wasn't used to people telling him he looked good, normally it was on him to tell others. Make conversation, he should make conversation.

Glenn: So... do you come here often

Silver: *shrugs* A few times a year. I shift around a lot but it's got good woods for camping

Camping? It was then that Glenn looked past Silver and noticed the pack and sleeping bag under a tree. Watcher how long had he been sleeping out here? He couldn't stay out in the rain, he could get sick.

Silver: I wanted to make sure you were doing okay after everything that happened

Glenn: You were worried about me? You're the one whose bed wants to become one with the river

Silver: I've been in worse situations. I'm a werewolf, I can look after myself

Glenn: I wasn't trying to say you couldn't. I was just meaning I'm not stuck living under a tree

Silver: I'm not stuck, I'm where I want to be. What's wrong with under a tree? You afraid to get dirt in your pretty hair?

Glenn: No! I can handle dirt. I just... I don't like to think of you out here by yourself

Silver: Aren't you out here by yourself?

Glenn: Not exactly

Silver: What does that mean

Glenn hesitated. Miranda had gone on and on about coven safety. But that was to keep human's out. Silver was saying he was a werewolf so that should be fine... maybe. If he got him in without running in to Drusilla.

Glenn: You see the park back there? That's uh... that's actually where my coven is. The place is just shielded to keep people away

Silver felt his heart sink a little. Talking to one person at a time was one thing but a whole coven? He hoped Glenn didn't want him to impress anybody.

Silver: I didn't know you were part of a coven

Glenn: I'm not really, my grandfather is just friends with the leader. After the whole bc loss he wanted me to be around people like me. To learn more about how to protect myself

Silver: Do you need protecting

Glenn: Sometimes we all need protecting. Take my hand and I'll show you

Silver: Show me what

Glenn: The buildings. You can come to my place, have a hot shower, a warm meal

Silver: You must think I'm really good looking to ask me to move in after five minutes

Glenn: What? No I- I mean yeah but- the spells. To get you through the spells you'll need to hold my hand

Silver: Oh, right

Silver reached out and took hold of Glenn's hand. Glenn pulled out his wand and waved it muttering, sending Silver's possession flying through the barrier. Then he swapped hands and led Silver towards the eerily quiet part.

Silver felt the aversion he'd been feeling to the park grow bigger. The damn spellcasters, that must be their doing. No wonder the animals had fled. Glenn stopped and still holding his hand began muttering. While he was distracted Silver looked down at their hands. He had hugged Grayson sure but other physical contact... it had been a while. Glenn hadn't seemed offended when he attempted to flirt. Maybe Silver could really mess up his hair some time. If Glenn didn't mind the dirt all the better. Then Glenn spoke shaking him out of his thoughts.

Glenn: Alright

Silver: Alright what?

Glenn: Look

Silver looked up and gasped. It was like the buildings had snuck up on them.

Silver: How did you do that

Glenn: It wasn't me, the others put up the protections and the buildings. I just got us through

Silver: Still, it's amazing. Are you ready?

Glenn: Ready? I don't know, maybe. I hope so. Wait, ready for what?

Silver: You were going to take me home

Glenn: Oh *chuckles* Yeah I'm ready for that

Previous ... Next

[shybluebirdninja]

The Wrong Wedding

Summary: You and Bucky accidentally show up at the wrong wedding after his GPS leads you astray. Instead of leaving, Bucky (in all his grumpy glory) suggests crashing it “just for fun.” You two end up on the dance floor, Bucky makes a hilarious speech, and by the end of the night, you’re taking home more wedding cake than the actual guests. Who knew the Winter Soldier could be so mischievous?

Pairing            : Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Genre              : Fluff

It all started with Bucky's insistence that his GPS app was better than mine. He was so confident—borderline cocky—about it. We were supposed to be headed to Steve’s cousin’s wedding, which was in the middle of nowhere, somewhere off a dirt road, in a place with more cows than cell towers.

“Trust me,” Bucky had said, flicking his phone screen with his vibranium fingers. “I’ve been using this app for ages. It’s foolproof.”

Clearly, Bucky hadn’t met the one fool who could outsmart even the most advanced piece of Stark tech: himself.

An hour into the drive, I noticed something was off. The trees were looking... different. Like, spooky, “I’m going to kill you and your super-soldier boyfriend” kind of different.

“Bucky, I don’t think this is the way,” I said, squinting out the window. “Did Steve’s cousin plan their wedding in the middle of a horror movie set?”

He just grunted, glancing over at me for a second. “Relax. We’re fine. GPS says it’s just a few more miles.”

I leaned forward and saw the little blinking dot on his phone. “What does ‘Danger: No Road Access’ mean?”

He blinked. “Probably just a suggestion.”

“Uh-huh. And what about ‘Entering Restricted Area: Authorized Personnel Only’?”

Bucky shrugged, his fingers tapping the steering wheel like he didn’t just guide us into a potential military test site. “It’s fine. Steve’s family is kinda military, right? They probably booked a spot near a base.”

“Right.”

Another fifteen minutes passed, and finally, we pulled into a parking lot filled with cars. There were people milling around, music playing, and... was that a fountain of champagne?

“See?” Bucky smirked, throwing the car in park. “Told you.”

I eyed the fancy decorations and wedding arches. “Steve said his cousin’s wedding was supposed to be a ‘rustic, simple affair.’ This looks like Beyoncé’s vow renewal.”

Bucky frowned, glancing around. “Well... maybe rustic means different things to different people?”

I shot him a look but shrugged. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with. But if this isn’t the right wedding, you’re making the speech to the bride and groom.”

“Deal.”

As we got out of the car, Bucky fixed his suit jacket, pulling at the cuffs like he wasn’t used to dressing up. I, on the other hand, was just praying my dress didn’t ride up in the wind as we walked toward the entrance.

The moment we stepped inside, something felt... wrong.

First of all, there were way too many people for Steve’s cousin. Secondly, there was a chocolate fountain. With gold flakes.

I leaned over to Bucky, whispering, “You sure Steve’s cousin isn’t like, the secret heir to a throne or something? This feels kinda royal.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the room. “Yeah, this seems a little... much.”

Just as we were about to turn around, a woman wearing a glittery, over-the-top dress—clearly tipsy—grabbed Bucky’s arm. “Oh my God, you made it!” she squealed, eyes wide. “Natalie will be so happy!”

I stifled a laugh as Bucky’s face froze in horror. The woman didn’t even give him a chance to respond before dragging us toward the dance floor, where the bride and groom—Natalie and some dude we had never met in our lives—were having their first dance.

“Yep,” I whispered, biting back a smile. “We’re at the wrong wedding.”

Bucky glanced at the bride and groom, then back at me. “You wanna leave?”

“Are you kidding?” I grinned. “Hell no. We’re staying.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Why do I let you talk me into this crap?”

“Because you love me, obviously.” I tugged him toward the open bar, smirking. “Come on, might as well enjoy the free booze.”

We spent the next half hour trying to blend in, sipping champagne and stealing bites of hors d'oeuvres that looked way too fancy for regular humans. Bucky kept looking around, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. I, on the other hand, was living for it.

“So,” I teased, leaning on the bar, “when are you going to make that speech you promised?”

His face went pale. “You were serious about that?”

“Dead serious.”

Before he could protest, the tipsy glittery woman from earlier suddenly appeared, now holding two glasses of champagne. “Oh my God, you have to give a speech! You’re practically family!”

Bucky looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor. “I’m practically family?”

The woman waved him off. “Natalie will love it! Go, go!”

I shoved him lightly. “Come on, Barnes. Time to shine.”

He groaned but stood up, adjusting his jacket like he was going into battle.

As he took the mic, I could see him searching for something to say. Anything.

“Uh,” Bucky started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “So… weddings, huh?”

I bit my lip to stop from laughing. This was already a trainwreck.

“They’re... great,” he continued, glancing at the bride and groom who were staring at him expectantly. “You know, marriage is like... teamwork. Like... um, the Avengers. You got your Iron Man, who’s always doing his thing, and then there’s Cap—Steve—who’s, uh, really good at giving speeches...”

Oh. My. God.

I buried my face in my hands as Bucky rambled on about superheroes and teamwork, comparing marriage to “coordinating a mission,” and something about “taking down Hydra together.”

By the time he wrapped it up with, “So yeah... uh, congrats, I guess,” the room was dead silent.

Then, suddenly, the bride—Natalie—burst out laughing, clapping her hands. “That was amazing! Best speech ever!”

The rest of the crowd erupted in applause, and I couldn’t stop laughing as Bucky stumbled off the stage, red-faced and glaring at me.

“Did you really just compare marriage to taking down Hydra?” I gasped between fits of laughter.

“Shut up,” he muttered, downing the rest of his champagne. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You love me, remember?”

He grumbled something under his breath, but I saw the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

The rest of the night was a blur of dancing, stealing more fancy food, and somehow convincing Bucky to slow dance with me. He wasn’t great at it—he kept stepping on my toes—but seeing the Winter Soldier awkwardly trying to sway to a love song was probably the cutest thing I’d ever witnessed.

By the end of the night, we were sitting by the chocolate fountain, eating cake and pretending we belonged there.

“So,” Bucky said, licking some frosting off his thumb, “wanna tell Steve about how we crashed the wrong wedding?”

I shook my head. “Nope. This is between us. Our little secret.”

He smirked. “Deal.”

As we got up to leave, the bride ran over to us again, giggling as she handed Bucky a massive box of cake. “Take this with you! You guys were so fun, I’m so glad you came!”

Bucky blinked, looking down at the cake. “Uh, thanks?”

And just like that, we walked out of the wrong wedding, carrying more cake than we could eat in a month.

As we got into the car, I glanced over at Bucky, who was still holding the box. “So... GPS app of yours, huh? Foolproof, right?”

He shot me a death glare. “Don’t. Say. A word.”

I grinned, leaning back in my seat as he started the car. “Admit it, Barnes. You had fun.”

He didn’t respond, but the small smile on his face told me everything I needed to know.

And as we drove away from the most ridiculous night ever, I couldn’t help but laugh. Who knew the Winter Soldier could be such a troublemaker?

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 83

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

———————————————————————

A few weeks later...

Saturday, June 18; 1:00 p.m. -  Batlle Residence.

“You look stunning,” murmurs Lucy as I gaze at myself in the mirror.

A smile forms on my lips as I hear her voice. Indeed, I feel especially beautiful on this very special day. I turn toward her. She’s standing at the entrance of my room, wearing her beautiful long dress that matches mine. We’ve been separated during our preparations, and I don’t regret it. Seeing her now, when we last saw each other in pajamas, is extraordinary.

“You’re not looking bad yourself,” I say, making her chuckle.

She slowly approaches me, as if savoring the moment. I know I am, at least. She gently wraps her arms around me and leans in toward my face.

“No! Don’t kiss me now. We’ll mess up our lipstick.”

“As if that’s something that would stop me.”

I giggle against her lips as she kisses me anyway.

“You have no respect, Miss Bronze.”

“Oh, you’re finally deciding to use formal language with me? It’s about time.”

I burst out laughing, hiding in her neck. We’ve come a long way since that first day when she threw me out of my bed.

“Better late than never… right?”

“Hmm…,” she breathes in amusement. “By the way, how’s your mother feeling?”

“I haven’t seen her since earlier, but she seemed super stressed.”

“Stressed?” repeats Bronze, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t get that impression this morning.”

“Well, it changed since then. I had to call the caterer, the servers, and the florist to make sure everything was in order. Even though we’ve been preparing everything frantically over the past few days, she’s afraid something might go wrong.”

“I see,” she chuckles.

“Ona! Mom’s calling you.”

I sigh heavily, which amuses my girlfriend. I’m starting to regret accepting my role as a first maid. She keeps overburdening me. Yet, on the other hand, I think this is the first time we’ve been so close.

“I’ll go with you.”

“Thanks.”

We follow my little brother to the master bedroom, where my mother is getting ready with the help of professionals. Actually, we all received the same special treatment. My mother didn’t want us to worry about anything, and I must admit it was quite pleasant.

“Ah, there you are finally,” she says upon our arrival. “And with Lucy. You’re already ready, I see. You both look fabulous.”

“Thank you,” I say, blushing slightly.

“I was about to put on my dress. Would you like to help?”

“Yes, if you want.”

“Maybe I should leave…” says my girlfriend softly.

“Oh no, please stay. It makes me happy, and I’m not embarrassed at all. Unless you are.”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

My mother takes off her clothes, leaving only her underwear. Lucy has joined my brother, who sat on the bed to watch. When one of the professionals opens the cover protecting the dress, we all fall silent with anticipation. My mother chose it before we arrived in Barcelona, and we wanted to keep it a surprise since we already know everything else. It was our only surprise, and it was worth it.

“Wow, it’s beautiful.”

The dress seems long and straight. Knowing my mother, I bet she opted for a train. She chose this style for her wedding with my father. From what I can see, the sleeves are made of lace, like the front of the dress. However, as you look lower, the material becomes lighter. It’s beautiful, no doubt about it.

“Come help us, Ona.”

I quickly join them to help take it out of the cover. There are two of us holding it as my mother puts it on. I didn’t expect it, but it’s heavy. I’m relieved when we button it at the neck. We couldn’t see it before, but the back is completely open. My mother, who is slender, wears it wonderfully.

“He won’t be able to say no when he sees you in this,” I say, making her laugh.

“I sure hope so, yes. Especially after ten years together.”

Ten years already... How time flies. The atmosphere is broken by the front door slamming. No one should be coming here. Marcus went to get ready at a hotel downtown, where his sister is staying for the festive weekend.

“Ona?”

“Well, it seems there are others who are ready,” I say, recognizing Mapi.

“I’ll go welcome them,” Lucy offers.

“Thank you.”

She goes off, taking Joan, who was getting restless here. Meanwhile, I turn back to my mother, who is looking at herself in the mirror. I feel a slight lump in my stomach from anticipation. I know today is going to be a big day.

“I’m happy for you, Mom.”

She turns around to give me a smile.

“You know what makes me the happiest?”

I shake my head.

“What makes me the happiest is that you’re here, with me on this day. I’m very proud to be the mother of such a beautiful, strong, and exceptional woman like you.”

“Mom…”

I try to interrupt her, but she raises her hand. A small lump forms in my throat. I expected a little speech today, but I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it. Yet, these past few days have been indescribable. I’ve felt a real connection with my mother.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, Ona. The worst was certainly not trusting you enough, my own daughter. I compared you to myself for a long time, and I shouldn’t have. Your father always told me that you inherited his wisdom and determination, but I never wanted to listen.”

I feel really strange. She has never spoken to me so openly before. I’m on the verge of tears, but I hold back.

“You’ve followed your own path, and from now on, I will support you, no matter what.”

I nod because I can’t speak at this moment. It’s the first time she’s said these words to me, and coming from her, it touches me deeply. I let her hold me in her arms.

“You’ve found a gem to support you in the future that awaits you. Lucy has my full gratitude, both as a person and for what she has done for you.”

“Thank you, Mom…”

“I know I haven’t always expressed it well, but I love you very much, Ona. You are my only daughter. I have two children now, but that doesn’t change the love I’ve had for you since your birth.”

I sigh softly with a small smile on my lips. It’s really what I needed for this day.

“I love you too, Mom.”

She steps back, and I’m surprised to see her in the same state as me. Tears have streamed down our cheeks.

“I think we need a little touch-up on our makeup before going downstairs.”

I chuckle, agreeing. I get my makeup redone first. Then, I leave the professionals with my mother so they can finalize the last details. When I come down the stairs, I’m greeted by whistles from my best friend.

“Looking hot, Batlle.”

I laugh softly, accepting the hug she offers when I reach her. Discreetly, she lifts the dress to see my shoes.

“And heels too. I thought you weren’t walking very straight.”

“Well, thanks! I practiced all week!”

I make everyone laugh with my comment. But it’s true. I continue my greetings with Ingrid, who has obviously been invited. It’s very strange to see her in a dress, she whom I’ve always seen in uniform or jeans, but it suits her very well.

“So? Is she almost ready?” Lucy asks me. “The car has arrived.”

“That’s good news. She won’t be stressed waiting.”

“That’s what I thought,” she giggles. “And you, are you okay?”

She strokes my cheek when I’m in her arms. She noticed. I must still have slightly puffy eyes. I smile and nod.

“Absolutely fine. I feel like today is going to be unforgettable.”

- That's good to hear.

She kisses me before I turn to our friends.

“Okay. I think we still have a little time. What do you say we wait in the living room? Would anyone like something to drink?” I suggested.

“No, thank you. We might spill something on ourselves.”

Ingrid is absolutely right. We join my brother, who’s already watching TV to pass the time. Meanwhile, we chat while we wait for my mother to arrive. She finally shows up half an hour later.

“Wow, Abby! You really went all out!” my best friend exclaims when she sees her.

Indeed, there’s nothing to say—she looks stunning.

“Hello, girls.”

“You really outdid yourself!”

“Can we go now?” my brother asks.

“Yes, Jo, we’re going,” I laugh. “Everyone must be waiting for us eagerly.”

After almost a month, it was time for this day to finally come. When we step outside, an old convertible Chevrolet from the 1980s is waiting for us. It was reserved by Hector, who is standing next to the car in a suit. I hold the train of the dress with Mapi as we walk down the steps.

“You look gorgeous, Abby,” says our driver as he opens the door.

“Thank you, Hector.”

“Here are the keys to your car,” he says, handing them to me.

“Thanks. We’ll meet you there.”

“Yes, see you in a bit.”

My mom gives me a final hug before getting into the car. Our ride for the day will be my mom’s car. We had fun decorating it this morning whenever we had a spare moment. I hand the keys to Lucy since she’s driving. Ingrid joins her in the front while I share the back seat with Joan and Mapi. We head out first to the place where everyone is waiting for our arrival. The lively atmosphere in the car makes the drive feel shorter. Before I know it, Lucy is parked, and I’m holding onto her arm as we walk toward Marcus, who is waiting outside the church doors. We move through the crowd of both families, greeting people I haven’t seen in a while. My mom organized a dinner with them last night for this purpose. Lucy was wonderful; she took the time to meet everyone and chat a bit with them. Since my mom is an only child, there aren’t many people my age, but it didn’t seem to bother her. I was happy to see everyone again. Lucy reminded me of the importance of family. On the other hand, I can’t say the same for Joan. Since no one has seen him since he was born, he was the center of attention all evening. I think he’s been a bit traumatized because he hasn’t dared to leave Lucy’s side whenever I’m busy or not around. He’s actually following us closely right now. We finally reach Marcus, who’s wearing a three-piece suit.

“You’re finally here,” he says with relief when he sees us.

“Hi, Marcus,” I tease lightly. “A bit nervous?”

“A little, yes,” he admits. “How’s your mom holding up?”

“She seems to be in the same state as you. But she’s doing fine.”

He smiles and nods gently.

“Don’t worry. Everything is in order.”

“Thanks, it’s nice of you to handle all this.”

“It’s no problem.”

Thanks to Ingrid and Mapi, the guests begin to enter the church. We step aside to let them go in. My stepfather is extremely nervous. He knows she’ll be here soon.

“She’s eager to see you,” I whisper to him.

“So am I,” he replies. “Thank you for being there for her these past few weeks. It meant a lot to her.”

“I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t very kind to you these past years.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Your reasons were completely justified. Even though your father hid his feelings from you, he felt the same way for a long time.”

I can’t hide my surprise.

“Really? He made me believe otherwise. He told me he wanted mom to be happy.”

“He did. That’s why he hid it from you.”

“Why?”

“He wanted the happiness of the two women in his life—your mom and you. In a way, he was glad your mom wasn’t alone. But he didn’t like that it was me, given that I was his long-time partner in the army…”

I nod. That’s completely understandable. I wouldn’t have liked it either.

“But he knew your mom wanted to win your love, and your father knew that. So he hid his resentment, which gradually faded over the years.”

I don’t know what to say. Even two years after his death, I’m still learning about all the incredible things he did for me.

“Your father was a great man, Ona. You were lucky to have him as a dad. I know I can never replace him, and that’s not my intention at all, but… I’m going to become your mother’s husband, and she cares deeply about you. Because of that, I intend to support you as best as I can, no matter what you think of me.”

“Yes, of course, you could never replace my father, Marcus. But if I accepted to be my mother’s maid of honor, it’s to show my support for your commitment.”

“Thank you,” he smiles sincerely. “It means a lot to us.”

Joan catches my attention by tugging on the hem of my dress.

“Ona, mom is here,” my brother announces.

I see the car approaching. I glance at Marcus, who immediately understands.

“I’ll see you soon.”

I return to Lucy, who’s surrounded by our friends.

“I thought our job would be more difficult,” Mapi says to me.

“So did I,” I admit.

“Well, let’s head inside then. See you in a bit.”

“Yes, see you soon.”

She goes inside, leaving only Lucy and me, as Joan has gone in with her father. I take the opportunity to find her arms again. She kisses my forehead.

“I love you,” she whispers.

I smile, resting my head against her chest.

“Did you hear?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she replies. “I’m glad everything is finally getting resolved in your family.”

I nod with a big smile.

I finally step away from her when my mother arrives.

“I’m nervous,” she confesses, making us laugh.

“That’s normal; it’s your day, Abby,” my girlfriend replies.

“Did you see Marcus?”

“Yes, he went inside when we saw the car coming.”

She nods before sighing softly.

“It’s time to go in. Unless you’ve changed your mind…”

She laughs, shaking her head.

“No, we can go.”

Since no one is escorting her, she at least wanted someone to accompany her, and that’s us. Lucy extends her arm for me to take.

“Miss.”

I giggle, stepping away from her. I glance at my mom before leading the way down the church aisle. As we enter, the organ begins to play. I get chills. This is it—the ceremony is starting. I have butterflies in my stomach again, but now I know it’s just anticipation.

Saturday, June 18th, 6:00 PM –  Batlle Residence

It’s done. They did it. They’re finally married. The effort we put in was intense, but everything looks truly magnificent. We have every reason to be proud of ourselves. My mom didn’t want to deal with booking a venue, so she thought our garden was big enough to accommodate everyone. I was skeptical at first, but in the end, the result is truly incredible. A white canopy stretches from the roof of the terrace to the garden trees. The rest is decorated with lanterns and fairy lights everywhere. It’s very colorful, but it creates a real atmosphere. If it’s not the lights, it’s the flowers my mom insisted on having. I thought there would be too many, but it turns out I was wrong. Since we’re in a garden, it looks fantastic. Right now, I’m with Lucy, Mapi, and Ingrid, each with a glass of champagne in hand. I already know we’ll be spending the evening together. Having been involved in the preparations, I made sure we’re at the same table since they’re round tables.

“So, now that everything’s over and we finally have time to talk… How did your exams go?”

“You’re really starting off strong,” Lucy teases.

“What? She hasn’t talked about them since we got here.”

“Well… I’m not sure, actually. I have mixed feelings, so I prefer not to talk about it.”

“Oh… Was it that tough?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I worked hard, but I don’t know… There are several subjects I’m unsure about.”

I lean back against Lucy, who pulls me into her arms.

“You doubt yourself too much, honey.”

“No, seriously. I don’t know, and it’s stressing me out. If I pass, it will be by a very narrow margin.”

“You’re talking nonsense. I saw you work tirelessly for five months. If you don’t pass, it would be totally undeserved.”

“Anyway, the results come out in two weeks.”

“That’s true. By the way, since I’m moving in with you for good, can I go with you to get the results?”

“Yes, of course. Mom and Joan will be there too.”

My mom insisted on being there. She even took time off work for the event. Naturally, Joan wanted to come too, so he’ll be pulled out of school a week early. For once, we’ll be the ones welcoming her… It’s strange to think she’ll be coming to *our* place.

- Oh, that’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to see that famous school.

- It’s going to be so weird.

Not only will it be the last time we go there, but all my loved ones will be coming with me.

- How are you going to tell your school friends? she asks us.

I shrug and glance at Lucy.

- I don’t know. We haven’t planned anything. We’ll see when the time comes. It’ll probably be in the evening or something like that.

Lucy nods in agreement. I don’t want to overthink it anymore. It’s time to relax until the next school term. I had to clear out my room at school, and with Lucy’s optimism, I left with the idea that I wouldn’t be going back. It’s a bit heartbreaking. Alexia and I did one last tour of the school to reminisce about every part of it. After all, we’re leaving behind a lot of memories. Good ones, as well as bad. The most important thing is that we’ve freed up our spots for those who come after us. It’s nice to know others will get to experience what we did.

- Babe, I think your mom wants to see you, Lucy points out.

- Hmm?

I look in her direction and see my mom waving at me. Poor thing, she must be overwhelmed with all these people coming to congratulate them.

- I’ll go see her.

- I’ll go with you, Mapi says immediately.

I give Mapi a smile before giving Lucy a quick kiss.

- See you in a bit.

We head off, leaving them behind.

- Everything okay? I ask my mom once I’m beside her.

- Could you get us something to drink, please? We’re about to dry out.

- Yes, of course.

- Is everything going well on your side?

- Yes, yes. We made the rounds. Everyone seems to be having a good time.

- That’s good. That’s what matters most.

- I think the crowd will thin out soon. That would be nice.

- Yes, we’ll see. We’re not going to kick them out either.

- True. Well, we’ll go get your drinks and be right back.

- Thank you.

Mapi and I head towards the buffet. She puts her arm around my shoulders while we wait for our turn.

- So, when are you going to take the plunge?

- Shh, don’t talk about that here.

- It’s fine, they’re far away. Are you going to wait until you’re back in Manchester?

I roll my eyes, knowing she won’t drop the subject.

- If you really want to know, I’ve already got everything planned out. Unfortunately for you, you won’t know anything from now on. You’d probably spill the beans.

- Pff. You’re mean! I bet Alexia knows, though!

I giggle and nod.

- Yeah. Actually, she’s the one who gave me advice.

- I can’t believe it! You traitors!

I laugh, unable to hold it in. Finally, it’s our turn. I ask for two cocktails for the newlyweds. While waiting to be served, I look towards Lucy, but my view is blocked by a man whose silhouette I recognize instantly.

- Sam! I realized I hadn’t seen you yet.

- Hey, beautiful.

We exchange a hug before I notice the person beside him. My smile widens as I realize it’s Paolo.

- What a surprise. We finally meet!

- Hello, Ona, he says with amusement.

His voice is deep. He’s even more handsome in person than in photos. I’m glad to see that things are working out for them. Samuel told me they’re getting married after Paolo proposed. I’m really happy for them.

- Well, I don’t need to introduce you, Sam jokes. I talk about you two enough to each other.

- I’m so glad to see you both. How are you doing?

- Really well. You’ve done an amazing job. The garden looks beautiful.

- My mom picked everything, but she really made good choices.

- Absolutely. Isn’t Lucy with you?

- She’s over there with Ingrid. We came to get drinks for the newlyweds.

I turn to Mapi, noticing that she’s taken the drinks. She takes the opportunity to greet the guys, then we step away from the buffet to make room for the next in line.

- Do you know where we’ll be seated? Sam asks. I didn’t want to be nosy and wander around the tables.

- You’ll be with us, at the table to the left of the newlyweds. Since it was just us girls, I thought a bit of masculinity wouldn’t hurt.

- Of course! he jokes. That’s great. At least we won’t be with strangers.

- We wouldn’t do that. Sofia and her husband will be with us too. I wanted to be with people I’m used to being around at the table.

- You’re right. Anyway, I doubt we’ll be sitting much. There’s already good music, so I’m not worried about the rest of the night.

- No, definitely not.

- Well, we’ll let you get back to your mom. Can you tell me where your friends are? We’d like to say hi to them too.

- Over there, I say, pointing them out.

- Great. See you in a bit.

- Yep. See you soon.

We return to my mom with the drinks. The evening continues on. As expected, people who were only invited for the reception are slowly leaving, leaving only close friends and family behind. I gently encourage everyone to take their seats before joining mine between Lucy and Samuel.

- Everything okay? my girlfriend teases gently. You look like you’re running all over the place.

- No, you think?

She laughs softly. She opens her arms, and I lean into her to kiss her cheek.

- I’m staying here now.

- That works for me.

I smile, looking around. I made a good choice for our table. Everyone is already chatting with each other. Mapi and Sam are bickering. Ingrid is getting to know Sofia better, while Paolo and James, Sofia’s husband, are talking about sports. It seems like that topic always brings people together. The first servers are making their rounds to start serving wine, followed by the first course. My mom had already chosen the menu before we arrived, so it’ll be a surprise from start to finish. I finally relax and enjoy the evening and the meal, engaging with the rest of the table.

Sunday, June 19; 2:30 AM -  Batlle Residence.

It’s getting late. Some guests—the older ones—have already left the party. It’s been lively from start to finish, filled with emotion. There was the first dance, as well as games and even speeches. I gave an impromptu speech before dessert. After what my mom and Marcus said this morning, I felt compelled to speak to them from the heart too. Of course, it ended in tears. Right now, I’m in Lucy’s arms, swaying gently to the sound of the last few songs, which have become more mellow.

- Are you getting tired?

- No. I think the alcohol is wearing off. It’s lowering my adrenaline.

- Hmm... so that’s it.

I recognize her amused look. I must admit, I did drink a bit tonight. Between the champagne, cocktails at the reception, and wine at the table, I indulged a bit. Not to the point of being drunk, but enough to feel good. I stopped when my head started to spin.

- Do you find that funny? I ask with a small smile.

- Not at all. It’s just that alcohol makes you happier, it’s funny.

- Yes, that’s true.

I rest my head on her shoulder until the end of the song. I love being in her arms. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it. She kisses my temple at the end, pulling away slightly.

- Are you sure you don’t want to head back? It’s getting late.

- No, but we can rest a bit further away if you want.

- Okay, I’ll follow you.

Our garden is big, so there’s space to go further back. I grab her hand and lead her to the back, where the lanterns continue to light up along the fences. Lucy wraps her arm around my shoulders as my head rests against hers.

- I’ve never seen this pond up close before, she says as we approach it.

It’s big, with a small wooden bridge built over it. Marcus himself made it. He loves nature, so he wanted to make the garden as lush and natural as possible. For the occasion, the bridge has also been wrapped in string lights. It was probably the perfect moment, surrounded by these colorful lights.

Come on.

Her smile widens as I pull her toward it.

- "Slowly, babe," she says, laughing.

The music was still audible in the distance. A new slow song had started after a more upbeat one. Seeing the look in Lucy’s eyes, she must be thinking the same thing as me.

- “One last dance for tonight?”

- “I could do plenty more with you. You certainly know how to handle your dance partners.”

- “There’s only one partner I really enjoy dancing with,” she says, placing her hand on my hip.

- “Hmm. I like the sound of that.”

I wrap my arms around her again and kiss her deeply. If I had to, I’d stay here all night. We enjoy the dance quietly, which ends far too quickly for my liking. As another upbeat song starts, Lucy lets go of me. Now she’s leaning over the railing to look at the pond. I stand beside her, feeling a slight anxiety rising within me. I could tell it was the moment. I fumble through my little purse that I’ve carried all evening. It was a bit annoying, but I had no other choice. My hands are shaking.

- “What are you doing?”

I jump and look up at Lucy, who’s watching me with her head tilted.

- “Nothing. Just looking for something.”

- “Do you need help?”

I shake my head. Please, that’s the last thing I need. I feel like I’m messing everything up. Alexia told me to just do it without overthinking. Maybe I should have been better prepared and enlisted Mapi's help. I look up again as I finally get my hands on the object I’ve been searching for. Lucy seems amused by me, with her little smile.

- “Did you find it?”

I clear my throat, blushing slightly.

- “Yes.”

I take a deep breath. There’s no turning back now, and anyway, I’m sure about this. I’m just a bit panicked about how to do it.

- “Lucy... I...”

I can’t bring myself to look at her, but her hand caressing my cheek makes me do it.

- “Relax. It’s just us. Why are you so nervous? What’s wrong?”

I bite my lip. She looks so beautiful standing in front of me. I’m really lucky to have her in my life. These thoughts give me courage. I’ve decided; I want to do this right.

- “I had a long speech prepared, but honestly, I can’t even remember it anymore.”

She laughs softly. It’s a sound I’ll never tire of, just like her green eyes that gaze at me so intensely. They captivated me from the very first time we met.

- “A speech for what, hmm?”

Without another word, I drop to one knee, and Lucy’s smile grows. I let go of my purse and take out a small box I haven’t released since this whole setup began. It’s a bit messy, and I really wish I had planned things better, but I know I’ll make up for it later.

- “I love you, Lucy. Since you’ve been in my life, I’ve never been so happy. You are an incredible woman who makes me the happiest person in the world. It was hard to win your heart, but now that I have it, I want to make you mine forever. So…”

My throat is tight, but I’m not stopping now. I open the little box to reveal the ring I chose for her recently with Mapi’s help. Her eyes fill with tears.

- “Lucy Bronze, will you marry me, for better or for worse?”

Despite her tears, she laughs softly. She’s making me feel all kinds of emotions. It’s such an intense moment. I’m tearing up myself, seeing her so overwhelmed. I went through so much to get to this point, here in front of her, down on one knee. I even asked her parents for her hand during our visit last month. I wanted to do things right. Her answer takes a while to come. She finally searches through her own clutch before joining me on the ground with a box similar to mine in her hands. My eyes widen in surprise as I look at her. I can barely see her now through the tears that have filled my eyes.

- “Sorry, sweetheart, but... You haven’t exactly been discreet with Mapi these past few weeks.”

My mouth falls open, but she manages to grab my attention by opening the box. The ring is beautiful. It looks a lot like the one I chose for her. It has a big diamond on top and smaller ones set along the band.

- “I love you, my love. Of course, I want to be your wife... But only if you agree to be mine.”

I’m definitely crying now. I can’t believe it. I was so nervous about proposing, thinking it was too soon.

- “Of course! But... but, since when did you want to…?”

I can’t finish my sentence. Lucy chuckles softly.

- “For a while, actually…”

I blink at her words. It’s really too good to be true.

- “I asked your mom during our last visit here, and I bought the ring with Jenni when we were in Porto.”

I’m completely stunned. I can’t believe it.

- “Was it the day we didn’t shower together?”

She laughs, nodding.

- “Yes, that day.”

We usually took showers together every morning after their morning run. There was just one day she pretended to shower at Jenni’s. She even came back with wet hair. I didn’t question it.

- “I can’t believe it! But why didn’t you propose sooner? And why do you say we weren’t discreet with Mapi?”

- “I wanted to propose after your exam results, to really start our life together.”

I had thought the same, but I couldn’t wait anymore. With Mapi knowing and my own excitement, I was afraid I’d spill the beans before. Alexia advised me to do it as soon as possible, and that’s what I did.

- “As for you and Mapi... Well, because you really weren’t discreet,” she giggles. “Your excuses for getting rid of Ingrid and me for several afternoons were pathetic. I knew something was up. Ingrid even wanted to follow you once to make sure, but I wanted to let you do it your way and be surprised…”

I laugh softly. I admit, the excuse of “we want to make up for lost time” only worked once.

- “I knew I should never have let Mapi handle the excuses. Mine aren’t credible because I can’t lie, but hers are even worse.”

Lucy bursts out laughing. Our tension slowly fades away. We’re still on the ground, but now we’re looking into each other’s eyes with a small, knowing smile. I place my hands on her cheeks.

- “It’s so surreal...” I whisper.

Lucy smiles, leaning a little closer to me.

- “I don’t think so. I love you so much, my love. I’ve wanted to make you mine for a long time. It was the natural next step.”

I kiss her gently. I need to feel her close, and she seems to understand as she presses herself against me.

- “You’re probably right... I love you so much.”

In a peaceful silence, we each slip the rings onto the other’s finger before lying down on the ground. Nothing else matters now. We don’t care if our dresses get dirty. We don’t care about the noise in the distance. The only thing that matters is that we’re together, sprawled out on the ground, entwined, with our hands clasped as if nothing could ever separate us. Smiling, I gaze at the starry sky above, a perfect end to an extraordinary evening. And what a night... We’re now truly inseparable.

[heybaetae]

maknae line + gestures of love 🫰🏼💋🫶🏼🌹🤟🏼 happy birthday @jkvjimin! ♡

[beatcroc]

there's no way the bathroom at peppino's pizza is actually that big but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . hey ummm anyway.... i care them...... anyway there's a lil ramble on my take on fake pep's like psyche or whatever in tags on the og post if ur into that kinda thing :y

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino]<- u are here [gustavo] [gerome] [noisette again]

[rynli]

doodle from a fanfic-length DE dream I had that I can’t stop thinking about (in which Harry has a panic attack trying to walk through the doors of his precinct, flees into Jamrock, investigates a booby-trapped corpse, fails to explode, has a low-morale depression episode, and makes a shitty ceramic bowl to cope) (it tells him positive affirmations)

[buddiebitch]

WHY are BT shippers so vehemently against actually analyzing the symbolism and choices made for this show?

i mean i saw multiple people saying we were overthinking the vertigo poster. they were saying that it was weird to assume that Buck would fill the pining best friend role that Midge did in the original movie??? (haven’t seen the movie, i just read a few synopses)

i’m sorry, so you agree that he put Ryan Guzman in the main character and Devin Kelley as the love interest because they’ll fill those roles in the storyline, but we’re overthinking when we point out what role he put Oliver Stark in?

or when i bring up the possible symbolism of Tommy always calling him Evan, the only response i get from BT stans is “well he would tell him if he didn’t like it” or “i think it’s because he was introduced that way and that’s why” or even “i think he probably likes that Tommy calls him Evan” (all real responses i saw) and it’s like, yeah that’s cool, those are great headcanons for you, but that actually isn’t what i was talking about. nothing wrong with having a headcanon, but it doesn’t explain anything about the show or answer any of my questions.

i mean in s4 he corrected his PARENTS and told them his name was Buck, and in s6 it was used to emphasize the strangeness of his coma dream, how everyone was calling him Evan, the whole show him being called Evan has almost always been used to emphasize that someone doesn’t know him very well, how are y’all convinced that it’ll mean something different this time? i get that some people think it’s supposed to be growth, that he’s cool with being called his first name, but if that’s the goal it definitely isn’t reading that way to me.

like i wish i could see things through the same lens as these people so it could make sense to me, i just don’t get how you can willfully ignore SO many hints just so you can ship what you want.

no hate to the ship or the shippers obviously, i’m just baffled by the lengths they’ll go to in order to convince themselves that plot device man is endgame for Buck.

[restinpeacesensei]

suggesting something,,