#the idea of asking her to put herself in this nightmare situation she has no frame of reference for understanding or empathising with

[trippinsorrows]

dreamland: leya's battle

authors note: this is an expanded version of the short i posted a few days ago.

warnings: angst, depiction of ocd in a child, slight themes of childhood suicidal ideation

masterlist

words: 3.8k

The sound of horns honking startles both Leya and Tama, the latter of which starting to stir in his car seat, single handedly exacerbating an already nightmare of a situation.

“Hurry up!”

It’s a single voice that’s followed up with several others, all expressing the same level of pressure and rudeness.

Solana is seconds away from marching over to the woman directly behind the SUV behind her car when Tama’s soft, sleepy voice serves as a deterrent. “Mama, I wanna go home….”

A shared sentiment, one that makes most sense for him, as he’d either be back in bed by now or cuddled on the sofa with her while he takes a nap. 

Obviously, that’s not an option. 

“I know, baby,” she comforts. Solana does take a step back but instead of acting out of character, directs her clear, unmistakable command to Jacob. “Shut them up.”

With a nod, she only catches his face shifting into that infamous scowl as he walks over to the cars lined up behind her, a line that has to be backed out into the street at this point.

With that handled, Solana moves back to the issue at hand. 

Leya continues to cry, sniffling, her little chest moving up and down. Solana can see the tips of her fingers turning red from the repeated, forceful buckling and unbuckling of her seatbelt.

“Leya….” Solana’s voice breaks. As best as she’s doing to maintain her composure, it’s a slowly losing battle. “Baby, it’s okay. We can g—”

“No!” Leya cries, shaking her head, still not looking at Solana as the concerned mother continues to gently stroke her hair. “I gotta—I gotta do it right, mommy, or something bad will happen!”

“Cataleya, I promise you nothing bad is going to happen, baby.” A reassuring statement she’s had to have stated at least ten times now over the past almost half hour that’s passed since the start of this episode. “But, you have to get out the ca—”

“No!” Leya begins to cry harder, once again going to remove her seatbelt, counting to three with her fingers and redoing it. A repeated, consistent, obsessive act that’s led to the situation they’re in now. A situation Solana has no idea how to handle. This is the first time it’s ever been this bad.

“What’s wrong, Leya?” Tama asks in his sweet voice, worry filling his little face as he tries to comfort her. Unfortunately, that only does the opposite. Leya cries out and jerks her body away, swatting his helping hand, prompting his bottom lip to poke out as he too starts to cry. 

“Leya, please don’t hit your brother.” It’s hard for Solana to be upset with or even scold her daughter, because she knows Leya can’t help it. Knows that it’s only because anyone else’s touch other than hers feels “wrong” to Leya, thus her reacting the way she did.  “Tama, it’s okay, baby boy. Leya just doesn’t feel good.” 

Solana is sure none of them are feeling good, especially herself, her hand moving to her small baby bump as a sudden wave of nausea washes over her.

God please, not right now.

Of all times, not now.

She just can’t handle this.

Solana moves to open the passenger door and reaches over to grab her cell phone out of the cupholder. Shaking, trembling hands move to Roman’s contact, as she too quickly hits the call button.

Three rings followed by a soft, feminime voice. “Mr. Reigns office, how can I—”

“Shit,” Solana curses and closes her eyes. She dialed his office number instead of his personal cell. “I’m sorry, Alicia, this is Solana. I need you to put me through with Roman.”

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Reigns,” she greets, voice kind but almost unsure. “Ummm—Mr. Reigns is in the middle of—”

“Alicia,” Solana doesn’t hesitate to interrupt. “Get my husband on this line now.”

The woman nervously clears her throat. “Of course.” A pause. “Just a minute.”

And it’s just about a full minute that passes when Solana hears her husband’s deep, baritone voice on the other end. “Solana? What’s wr—”

“I need you to meet me at the school,” she cuts in, emotion in her voice, her eyes start watering all over again. “I can’t—I can’t get Leya out the car. She’s—she’s stuck in a ritual, and I’ve got Tama, and he’s crying, and I can’t—I don’t know what to do.” Her voice breaks at the end, the overwhelming nature of it all finally trampling her

“Mommy, don’t cry,” Tama comforts, eyes focused on Solana from the backseat.

Solana is unsure if Roman can hear their five-year-old, because he’s doing the same, “baby, don’t cry. It’s okay.” It provides some solace but not as much as Solana knowing how to help her daughter could provide. “I’m on my way.”

The time between the phone call ending and Roman arriving feels like an eternity, Solana becoming more overwhelmed and feeling every bit as helpless as is while trying to defuse a terrible situation.

“Move out my damn way!” Roman’s rough, urgent voice prompts Solana to straighten her back from where she was leaning into the car, trying to help her daughter. Just laying her eyes on him is an instant, soothing thing.

“Thank you,” she murmurs as he presses his lips to her temple but quickly moves to replace where she was leaning in the car.

And she doesn’t need to be looking at him to know how devastated he must be at the scene before. “Leya, baby, what’s wrong?”

Leya cries and wipes at her eyes. “I can’t get it right.”

Solana walks over to the other side of the car to work to settle Tama whose combination of sleepiness and worrying about his sister have him stirring in his car seat.

“Leya, it’s fine the way it is, sweetheart.”

She shakes her head as Roman moves to cup her face, the other hand on her leg. “No! I have to do it right or something’s gonna happen to you or mommy or sissy or Tama!”

“Baby.” Tears burn Solana’s eyes hearing how deeply in the throes of distress her daughter is along with the devastation in Roman’s voice. “I swear to you, nothing bad is going to happen. To you. To your sister or brother or your mom, okay?” Solana watches how Roman’s hand has shifted from Leya’s leg, gradually up to where the seat buckles. “Daddy’s always going to protect you guys.” It’s a risky but necessary move as Roman undoes the buckle for her, Leya’s eyes widening when she realizes what’s happening.

“Daddy, no!”

“It’s okay,” Roman comforts, forced to ignore the way Leya’s cries intensify in volume and intensity as he takes the seatbelt off and pulls her out of the car. He moves to cradle her head as she holds onto him, crying into his shoulder. Solana can’t make out the hushed whispers he presses into her temple while walking her away from the car, clearly trying to put as much space as possible between herself and her trigger.

“Is sissy gonna be okay, mama?” Tama suddenly asks, Solana holding him on her hip. A fair question with an answer she cannot provide in this moment. Not the truthful one.

“Ye—”

“Leave me alone!” 

Solana’s ears instantly perk up at the familiar, angry voice. 

Lina.

Quickly placing her son back down in the car, Solana instructs him to stay there, knowing security won’t let him wander. Rounding the vehicle, her shoulders drop when she sees her other daughter, angrily pushing her little fists at the school's security that are trying to restrain her. 

Anger fills the mama bear as she marches over, demanding, “get your hands off my daughter now!”

It only requires one time for Solana Reigns to make her command, the guards easily moving to the side, Lina running over to her. Solana crouches down to meet her little girl. “Baby, what are you do—”

“Where’s sissy?” Lina forces out, her eyes searching for her sister. Solana would guess Roman has taken her for a brief walk out of their line of vision in an attempt to help calm her down. “She needs me, mommy!”

And just like that, an already sad situation is made even more sullen, even if in a tragically beautiful way. Solana adores the closeness of her girls, but as protective as Lina can be of her sister, she’s still a little girl, too.

She doesn’t need to be so caught up in this.

“Leya’s gonna be okay, honey. Daddy and I are gonna take her home and stay with her until she feels better.” Because there’s no way in hell Leya can go to school today. Not after this episode. “But, you’ve gotta go back to school.”

“But, what about Leya?”

“Daddy and I are gonna take care of her,” she repeats and reassures, stroking Lina’s cheek. “I promise.”

Still unsure, Solana goes for a bargain. “How about this? You go back into school, and either I or daddy will pick you up an hour early so you can spend time with Leya?” Both the girls have excellent grades, and whatever Lina misses for her last hour, Solana can help her make up. “Is that okay?”

It’s not preferred, but it seems agreeable, Lina nodding. 

Pleased, Solana moves to take her daughter into a hug, kissing the side of her head. “I love you, Lina.”

Catalina hugs her back just as tightly. “I love you, too, mommy.”

—-------

Roman and Solana don’t take Leya home.

They end up taking her straight to her therapist, Roman having called and explained the situation, thus Brie squeezing them in for an “emergency” appointment. 

Jacob escorts Tama home, and Solana, sitting in the back of the SUV, on one side of Leya, Roman on the other, texts Bayley and Naomi asking one or both of them to go to the house to stay with her son. 

He really doesn’t need to be alone. He should probably be with one or both of his parents, but whatever conversation transpires during this appointment is most likely something he doesn’t need to be present for. Thus, another painful sacrifice. 

Leya is still upset but no longer crying when they arrive at Brie’s office, thus allowing her therapist to take her back first, a welcomed thing as it gives both parents a minute to just breathe.

Or not.

“I couldn’t help her.” It’s a terrible, gut-wrenching thing to admit, but it leaves Solana’s mouth in a pained whisper as they sit alone in the lobby. “She’s…..she’s my baby, and I couldn’t….I couldn’t help her. Why couldn’t I help her?”

“Hey, hey,” Roman starts, moving to pull his wife onto his lap, wiping at her tears. “Please don’t do that, Sol. This is….this is beyond anything we’ve dealt with before. Just like she’s learning, we’re still trying to learn.”

Sniffling, Solana murmurs, allowing the emotions to flow freely. “It kills me to see her struggling so badly. She doesn't—she doesn’t deserve that. She’s just a kid, Roman.”

She should be laughing and enjoying her life for all of the merriment that it carries, but she instead is battling just to live a normal life because of something beyond anyone’s control.

Sadness appears in his warm brown eyes, agreement strong and evident. “I know.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and Solana doesn’t either. Just lets him hold her until Brie walks out with Leya. 

Both parents notice immediately she seems even calmer than when she went in.

“Alright, Leya, I’m gonna talk to your mommy and daddy now, okay?” Leya nods, as Brie instructs, “you go in the playroom, and we’ll come get you when we’re all done. Sound like a plan?”

Again, Leya nods, looking once at her mom and dad before walking into said therapy playroom. Brie then motions for the adults to follow her, closing the door behind her when Roman and Solana take a seat on the sofa.

Roman, forever the one to bypass introductions, jumps straight to it. “What are we going to do about this?”

Normally, Solana would be the one to try to ease into the conversation, to prioritize pleasantries. But, this isn’t one of those days. “This….this is the worst it’s ever been.”

Brie’s expression is solemn and knowing, the combination of Leya’s explanation as well as Roman’s phone call cluing her in to just how bad this is and what exactly occurred. “As I’ve mentioned before, Cataleya’s presentation of OCD is pretty severe for a child her age. I know we’re meeting once a week, but if possible, I’d like to bump her to twice a week.”

“That’s fine,” Roman answers, not even needing to consult with his wife. They’re most definitely on the same page there.

Brie nods, admitting, “I don’t know if I have after school availability for the second appointment—”

“We’ll pull her,” Solana answers. Because getting Leya the help she needs for her mental health trumps everything else, including her education. “That’s not a problem.”

Another nod of relief that’s quickly followed up with trepidation. “I know we’ve already discussed medication, and as her parents, I fully respect your stance on it. Nor would I ever try to sway you one way or another, but—”

“She needs it,” Roman interrupts, voice low and heavy. “I—I see that now.” He thought he’d seen it just a couple weeks ago when she made the comment about her brain, but then she’d done relatively well. Her episodes had been well managed, but after today, after this, Roman can’t deny it anymore.

She needs to be medicated.

It’s unfair to his daughter to continue to deny her that.

“Can you resend that list of child psychiatrists to us?” Solana asks. Before, she was thinking they could go through the kids’ pediatrician, but now, the same way Solana benefits from having a prescriber who specializes in mental health handling her medication, so could Cataleya.

“Of course,” Brie agrees, reaching over to her desk to grab a colorful piece of paper. “There is something else I need to show the two of you. Leya wasn’t very happy about it, but I tried to help her understand it’s only so we can keep her safe and better hel—”

“Safe?” Roman cuts in, sitting up, shoulders straightened. “What about safe?”

With a closed mouth sigh, Brie stands and walks over, handing them the paper. “Please read it.”

Roman shares the paper between himself and his wife, the two of them immediately recognizing their daughter's handwriting.

My brain is really bad and won’t work right. I have all these bad thoughts, and I can't stop them. I know it makes mommy and daddy and my sissy and brother sad, and I don't want them to be sad. If I was never born, I wouldn't have these bad thoughts and my family wouldn't be sad.

I wish I wasn’t born.

“Oh my God.” One hand goes to her stomach, the other over her mouth. Years. It’s been years since Solana has experienced such heartache, has had the brutal, visceral feeling of a knife being sliced across her chest over and over again. Tears filling her eyes, she looks up at her daughter’s therapist. “Is she—”

Solana can’t even bring herself to say the word, Roman reaching a hand over to her knee, clearly wanting to settle his wife before her own panic arises.

But, it’s a difficult thing when he himself feels gutted.

To see those words written by a child is one thing. For it to be his child is an entirely different thing.

It’s soul crushing.

“No,” Brie’s answer is the only semblance of relief either parent can find in this situation. “Cataleya assured me that she has zero desires or intentions on hurting herself, and truthfully, I wouldn’t even consider this passive suicidal ideation. I truly believe she’s just severely struggling with managing something she’s almost too young to have, let alone understand..”

“Is this my fault?” Solana blurts, eyes returning to the haunting words written by her seven year old—daughter. “Does….does my PTSD have anything to do with—did I give this to her?” Breaking down in front of her husband and daughter’s therapist definitely wasn’t on the agenda for today, but it’s exactly what’s happening. 

Because this added on top of everything that’s occurred in this single day with the fact that she’s pregnant and hormonal, and Solana being an emotional mess right now is truly the only outcome that makes sense.

Crying into her husband’s shoulder, Solana does her best to listen to the logic that should counter her emotion driven fears. 

“No, Mrs. Reigns. Of course not. OCD can have a lot of origins. There is a genetic component, but nothing that ties to PTSD.” Somewhat helpful, it doesn’t change the fact that her daughter feels the way she does. “I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for the both of you.”

“We just want her to be happy,” Roman finally enters the conversation, the concern in his voice betraying his visibly “calm” demeanour. A front, for sure.

“And she will be. She is a happy child. I can’t tell you how many times she speaks with such happiness and pride about you two, about her sister and brother. Even the new baby. She’s excited to be a big sister again.” The continued sharing helps to soothe the ache that throbs at the heaviness of it all. “Cataleya is going to be okay. We’re going to make sure of it.”

Both Solana and Roman do their best to keep that last sentence on repeat for the duration of the meeting that has a lot of information sharing, reminding of ways to help Leya when episodes occur, and the importance of working to help her manage her emotions as best as possible.

It’s all appreciated, and the encouragement of Leya having therapy twice as week on top of starting medication is also helpful in alleviating some of the apprehension.

The two find their sweet little girl playing quietly with the dolls in the playroom. All of the girl dolls are piled together, just as the boy dolls are piled together. Same with the kid dolls. All organized and methodical. Another aspect of her OCD.

“Hi, baby,” Solana starts. How she was able to pull herself together is a mystery, but it’s also necessary, especially given what she now knows about her daughter’s insight into this situation. “Can we join you?”

Leya nods, and both her parents move to sit on the floor with her. They allow a few minutes of silence to pass when Solana speaks again. “Leya?” She looks up from the doll that she was playing with, eyes open and curious with an unspoken ‘yes?’. “Brie….Brie showed us what you wrote, baby.”

And just like that, Leya’s gaze is downcast and solemn, something noticed by both adults. 

Roman doesn’t hesitate to pull his daughter into his lap. “Cataleya, I need you to listen to me.” And she does, pulling her focus up from her lap to his heartfelt expression. “You, your sister, and your brother are the best things that have ever happened to your mom and I. We love each other, but that’s nothing compared to how much we love you. And yes, it does make us sad to see you’re hurting and struggling, but that’s because you’re our little girl, and we don’t want to see any of our kids sad.”

“Leya,” Solana murmurs, tears brewing once more as she caresses the top of her baby girl’s head. “You are the bravest, strongest, sweetest little girl we have ever met. We love you so much, baby, and it would kill us if anything—” Her voice breaks, just the thought of it crushing her. “—if anything were to happen to you, okay?” 

Leya sniffles, voice soft and wavering. “But…but I’m not like sissy. I’m not strong like she is…..”

“You’re just as strong as your sister, sweetheart,” Roman comforts, thumb brushing away her tears. “Strength looks different on everyone. Lina is a lot like me. She has my type of strength, but you are a lot like your mom. You have her strength, and there’s not a damn grown-up on this earth I know who’s stronger than your mom.” 

Leya gasps, pointing out innocently. “You said a bad word, daddy…”

Roman chuckles, and Solana laughs, also wiping at her own tears. “Leya….” Solana works to find the right words, not wanting to necessarily open up this box fully, but to some extent, at the very least. “Did you know that you and your sister saved mommy’s life when you were just babies in my tummy?”

Her eyes widen, her jaw dropping. “Really?”

Solana smiles with a closed mouth, nodding. “Sure did, baby girl.”

Turning more towards Solana, Roman kisses the top of Leya’s head and keeps his arm around her, firm and protective. “How?”

Solana chuckles, carefully easing into a decline. “It’s a long story, and when you and Lina are older and can understand the full thing, I’ll tell you, okay?”

And, she will. Will share with them how they very much did in fact save her life and subsequently, themselves as well.

“Leya….” Roman waits until her eyes are on him again before resuming. “We’re gonna start taking you to see Ms. Brie twice a week now, okay?” She nods, a small smile on her face that sparks joy from both parents. “And mommy and I are gonna take you to a doctor who can give you medicine that can maybe help you."

“Medicine?” She repeats in a quiet, unsure voice.

“Yes, sweetie. Mommy takes medicine too, because even though I don’t have OCD like you do, I have something else called PTSD, and it means mommy gets scared and sad sometimes, and the medicine helps me to feel better.” A much simplified, child friendly answer that will hopefully help sway Leya to the side of openness.

And, it apparently does. “Will medicine help me with my bad thoughts?”

Roman nods. “It will.”

Leya looks away, clearly trying to use all of the information to formulate a response. “Okay.” One word. Simple. Very fitting for her. Looking between the two of them, she asks so sweetly, “you guys are gonna help me get better….right?”

Roman’s eyes shut as he kisses the top of her head again, “of course, sweetheart.”

Scooting closer to join in the hug and revel in the much needed warmth of this moment, Solana kisses her cheek. “We will always be here for you, Cataleya.” Always. “I promise.”

[astranauticus]

ok i like rushed through the whole orv webtoon way too fast so now i have thoughts going in like 5 different directions but ep121-123 drive me so fucking insane actually. every time i think about those two conversations i have to sit down

[writersdrug]

no thoughts just waitress!reader showing up for shifts like nothings wrong after the date situation

just keeping it calm and professional. working her shifts efficiently and no longer bantering/flirting with ghost, who would rather reader melt down and tear into him than putting up the walls around herself hehe

Ok I'm combining some asks here that had some different ideas - I got so many of you guys demanding reparation for making reader cry 😭 here's the comfort chapter! (Still a tad angsty at the beginning)

Ghost had finished your tips for you that night. He had half a mind to slide a hundred in your payout folder as an apology for ruining your date... but what good would that do? That would make you quit for good, if you hadn't already.

He lays in his bed, eyes stuck to the ceiling, still in his jeans and black shirt. He wishes he could snuff out the guilt that sits heavily in his gut. He wonders what you're doing - probably crying, possibly making a half-assed voodoo doll of himself and stabbing his chest with a dull steak knife, because that's all he feels right now.

He gets up early the next day after a rough three hours of sleep. He lumbers down the stairs to the office - Price is there, sorting out cash and working on the next supply order. He looks at Simon, who's rubbing his eyes and looking worse for wear.

"Mornin'." Price says, turning back to the monitor. Ghost grunts in response, dropping himself onto the couch behind Price. His head aches from the lack of sleep, thoughts circling in his mind about how to apologize to you. He can imagine you won't want to talk to him - or, if you do, it'll most likely be profanities wedged between insults. He'd love for you to berate him right now, and make him feel like he got what he deserved.

Price sighs. "You sleep alright?"

"I've had better."

"Nightmare?"

"... yea, somethin' like that."

Price huffs. "I'm workin' front of house today." He says, grabbing the bag of tips and standing up. "Goin' down to drop these in the safe, then I'll help you stock up."

Simon opens his eyes, looking at Price with confusion. "You?"

Price nods. "Dove called out sick. Sounded like she's got the lurgy."

That delivers the final blow to Simon. He knows you're not sick - you're avoiding him now. All plans to apologize are now out the window, and the more time passes, the harder it'll be to do it.

"You've only got yourself to blame, Simon." Price says, heading down to the restaurant floor.

He curses under his breath as Price leaves. How he heard about what happened - he could only assume it had been from Soap. He drops his arm over his face and groans. He wants to call out himself, but then they might as well shut down the entire pub for the day.

Should he try phoning you? Would you answer, let alone allow him to get more than five words out? What would he say? "Sorry I ruined your date, I was jealous tha' ya got a life outside of the pub." There is no variation of an apology that feels like it would be enough. He made you cry, for fucks sake. That was a punishment in and of itself, but he still had to own up to what he'd done.

He sighs loudly; his body feels heavy as he drags himself off the couch, trudging down the stairs. He still has a bar to run.

It had to have been the longest shift of Simon's life, and he even wrapped things up a bit earlier than usual. He didn't have the gift of your incessant chatting or being able to tease you to make the time pass. Price was a solid companion in front of house, but there was hardly a conversation to be held - even with the usual bar crowd. The patrons had a look of confusion for the majority of the night, wondering why Soap wasn't popping his head out of the kitchen to chat every once in a while - and why the hell the owner was serving tables, and not the chipper, spunky waitress.

When Simon had locked up for the night, he noticed your bike was no longer in the alley. Johnny must have dropped it off on the way back to his place.

Today isn't much different - at least, not for Simon. He's still suffering from a lack of sleep, he's irritable (he had a spat with Johnny in the morning, over something he can't even remember), and his work ethic is suffering. He's not worried about slicing bar fruit; it'll give him something to do later, when he needs it. Maybe the rush will kick him back into shape.

He stares at the dishes on the edge of the bar - they're all in need of a good polish, but he finds himself stuck on staring at the bar fridge. There's nothing else he needs to stock up on - it's packed completely full with wine, champagne, and cans of beer. He gently kicks the side of it with his boot. He should be checking the to-go boxes, helping Soap with setting up the condiments and soups, making sure the tables all had full salt and pepper shakers. That's what you would be doing. But, you're not here, and neither is Price. He can only hope tonight isn't as busy as the previous night, otherwise he'll have to close some tables. Which would make customers mad. Which would make Price mad. Which would-

Suddenly, he hears three loud bangs against the back door. He freezes, the sound triggering a Pavlovian response. He immediately looks up to the kitchen window - Soap opens the door, and you come jogging inside. You greet him with a smile. He asks how you're feeling, and you say "much better".

He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he just stands there like an idiot as you hang your bag and jacket on a hook. Stands there as you push your way into the restaurant, barely sparing him a glance as you scurry by him. Stands there as you run up the stairs, two at a time, diving nose-first into your chores so you can avoid Simon.

He can't speak. Should he? What can he say? "I'm sorry," for starters, but it isn't that simple. He thought you might have quit, and was preparing his heart for the worst. But now, here you are, running back and forth through the pub and setting up your tables - and it feels like you've never been farther away from him.

In all honesty, you can't bring yourself to talk to him either. You're feeling just as ashamed with your behavior two nights ago as he is about his own. Why the fuck would you expect someone - let alone your boss - to do your chores so that you could run off and have fun on a date? Not only that, but you'd made a scene; you felt like you had half-assed the ice bins in your scramble to get them cleaned, and then you sobbed in the middle of the restaurant. The cherry on top, however, was when you called Price yesterday and told him you had a cold, calling out of your shift. It was a cowardly thing to do, and you could tell he wasn't buying your story.

But: bills need to be paid, rent is due, and you can't lose this job. So you sucked it up and came in today - Simon is easy enough to ignore, separated from you by the bar.

At first, the quiet bartender was relieved that you had showed up for your shift - he wouldn't have searched for a new waitress if you had quit, instead choosing to deal with the consequences of his actions. But he's quickly getting more and more irritated with the silent treatment you're serving. You only talk to him when necessary: a simple "thanks" when you grab your drinks and run them to your tables. You busy yourself between rolling silverware, (over)stocking napkins and condiments, and even going so far as to spray the menus down and scrub them with a rag. You spend more time in the kitchen with Soap; each peal of laughter shared between the two of you is another arrow in Simon's chest. He's stuck behind the bar, listening to woes spilling from drunken lips, forced to watch you flit around and pretend he doesn't exist.

You can't keep this up forever.

Still, you do for most of the night. Even when your shift is coming to an end, the kitchen closed while you close the tabs for your remaining tables, you don't cave and sit at the bar with Simon. You sit at the farthest table from him, the farthest chair, in fact, skimming over your tip receipts - and talking to Soap (who was only able to sit with you since you had helped him knock out his tasks).

Simon's never been as angry with Soap as he is now - and the worst part is he knows it's not justified. He's watching from behind the bar, polishing glasses so hard they might wane into cups. He wants to talk to you. He will talk to you before the night is over. He doesn't expect forgiveness, but he expects that you'll at least let him offer an apology.

One of the regulars at the bar looks to whatever Simon is glaring at, chuckling quietly when he sees you. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Stuff it, Mike." Simon grumbles.

Meanwhile, you walk back from closing out your last table, plopping back in the booth with Soap. "What are you doing after this?"

"Sleepin'." he replies instantly, tossing back an onion ring. "Been dealin' with a grumpy bawbag since early this mornin', and I'm beat."

You glance over at the bar; Simon's back is facing you as he organizes the beer glasses. You really should apologize to him... you just couldn't figure out when the right time would be. He'd still be working by the time your shift ends, and you don't even know if he wants to speak to you at this point.

"Is he mad at me?" you ask, tapping your pen on the table.

Soap sighs. "I'm not goin' t' be the middle man, Bonnie." he says, looking at you intently. "If ye feel like somethin' needs to be said, go talk to 'im."

You groan, leaning back against the seat. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't! He's already pissed at me, and he probably thinks I'm a slacker. What good is an apology?"

"Ye won't know 'til ye talk to 'im, hmm?"

"What if he fires me?"

Johnny barks with laughter, and you frown. "I'm being serious."

"He'd never fire ye." he says, getting up out of the booth. He stretches both arms above his head and lets out a grunt. "In fact, he was throwin' a fit yesterday n' today 'fore ye came in. Bitch took it out on me."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Save it fer 'im." Soap interjected. He left you at the booth with the onion rings and your tips, disappearing into the kitchen. You huff, hunching back over your tips and scribbling through them.

Deep down, you know Soap is right. If anything, you could just apologize to Simon. If he chooses to be grumpy about it, so be it. You've got tough skin... still, you can't stand the thought of him being upset with you - not because of your work ethic, but because you liked him. A lot. And you wanted him to like you back, even if it was in the most platonic way.

But that didn't change anything. An apology was due, and you were going to give him one before you left tonight.

You grabbed an onion ring and popped it in your mouth, grimacing when you realized they were cold. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Simon making his was across the floor to your booth.

Great. Guess the apology is coming now.

He stops at the edge of the table, wiping his hands in a rag. You pretend to punch numbers into your phone's calculator, but they're all random - you just want to look like you're busy.

"May I sit?" he asks, tucking the rag into his back pocket.

You mumble out a "sure", still not looking at him. You hear his large frame slide into the seat across from you, polyester squeaking underneath his weight. You continue to do random equations on your calculator, letting a thick blanket of tension settle between the two of you. You can feel his stare burning into your head, his arms folded over his chest... and you notice that his mask is in his hand. You finally look up at him.

It's not the first time you've seen his face - you've caught glimpses of it when he smokes in the alley, or when he eats whatever Soap throws under the warmer for you and Simon. But this time, he's not taking it off to be convenient. And, dear god, you're just now paying attention to how scarred, rugged, and handsome he is - but now's not the time for those kinds of thoughts. You feel like he's reaching out an olive branch, showing a possible vulnerable side to himself. So, you place your pen on the table and lean back.

He stays quiet for a moment longer, trying to figure out how to start this. He wants to make sure that you know he's here to apologize, not to ask for forgiveness. From his silence, you assume he's waiting for you to go first.

"I'm sorry about Tuesday night." you say, eyes dropping to the table. Simon's astounded that you're the one apologizing, but you continue. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, and I'm sorry for trying to dump my job on you."

He feels worse, now. Was that even possible? He was expecting anger, insults - a detailed, frustrated explanation of what you did last night since you did not go on that date. But you're the one saying sorry? You think you're to blame for all of this unspoken aggression? Oh, you really do confuse him, sometimes...

"You don't need t' be sorry, luv." he says, gazing at you with a softness you'd never seen before, not in his brown eyes, at least.

"No, I do." you say, nearly pleading with him to let you be apologetic. "I was being a brat, and whether you usually do the ice bins or not, I shouldn't have expected you would do them without asking." You push your pen on the table, doing your best to convey your feelings. "And yeah, I was late for my date, but... well, he sounded like a dick, anyways."

Simon chuckles, watching you stare at the table. "Well, I owe you an apology, too. I jus'..." he sighed heavily, running a hand down his jaw. "I don' even know. Guess I was bein' lazy, or... I got jealous tha' you've got a life outside of this pub. Feels like you belong here."

He immediately regrets saying that - it sounds way too possessive and... just straight up weird. But you smile, taking comfort in the fact that he still wants you here. That this was the whole reason behind the mess.

"Soap called you a bitch. Said you were an asshole all day."

Simon scoffs. "Yea... 'm pretty sure Price would tell ya the same. And he wants ya back, too. Couldn't stand waitin' on tables, he was tryin' t' trade places with me all night."

You laugh. The world seems alright again - not perfect, but good enough. It might take a night of sleeping the tension away before you're fully back to your normal self, but this is a leap in the right direction. You look at Simon, into his brown, steady eyes, as they stare right back at you.

He breaks the silence. "I really am sorry for ruinin' your date."

You smile softly. "Thank you, Simon. I forgive you."

And just like that, the weight of his guilt is lifted away. The lingering sourness remains, a reminder that he had made you cry. But you had forgiven him, which was more than he was hoping to get tonight.

"Are we better?" you ask timidly.

He nods once. "Better."

You smile - you slowly slide your stack of receipts to him, biting your lip. "Cool - can I have my money?"

Just like that, his smirk drops - but you know it's all in good humor. He huffs, snatching the stack from the table and scoots his way out of the booth. "Always got money on the mind, eh?"

"I've always got rent on my mind." you retort, following after him with the bowl of onion rings. You plant yourself at your usual spot on the end of the bar, right near the POS where Simon cashes out your tips. He tries to hurry up, assuming you want to dip and go home after such an intense conversation. He slides the mask back over his face and punches his code in, trying to edit your tips into the system as quickly as he can.

"Simon?"

"Hm?" his response is instant, turning around to look back at you. You've got your phone on the bartop, and your back and jacket on the unoccupied seat next to you.

"Can I stay for a drink?"

He's melting on the inside, only held together by his own skin. He sets your receipts down and opts to do them later, right before whenever you decide to leave. He won't miss on an opportunity to have you stay longer.

"Course, luv. What's it gonna be?"

"You know how to make a cosmo?"

He chuckles, grabbing a glass from the shelf behind him. "Sure do."

[sepublic]

Post-Hoot with Dana Terrace!

            Dana’s put over 200 hours into games she’s missed since the finale; Octopath Traveler, Little Nightmares, etc. Sarah Nicole-Robles cried harder than she ever did when she said I learned a language I’ll never forget, a whole chapter of my life is over, during the King-ceanera. She said the line once and was suddenly sobbing because of how meta it was. 

         Rebecca has a ‘sona during the bit with Barcus in the epilogue sequence. Cissy also cried when watching with her family, her kids asked her about it; Sarah was really excited as she watched the finale.

         No sequel happening, but we can always hope; Dana would like to do more, but Disney owns the IP and needs to give them permission. Dana knew the prequel line in the finale was ham-fisted as hell but still went with it because she was pissed (she said Fuck to express her rage). Rebecca went back to the Anger phase of grief after watching the finale after realizing what they missed, but Sarah was also in Acceptance because it was hard to regret something that ended so well.

         Dana doesn’t cry that much, but TJ’s remix in the soundtrack made her cry. Dana brought back everyone for BBBYYYEEEEEEE, noting this was every character’s last line, and wished Hooty had more lines. Alex improvised a cut line after the Bye with Hooty expressing appreciation for the finale and readiness for his spin-off.

         Dana won’t say much in hopes she’ll get to do more for TOH in the future; A Youtube reviewer (shoutout to all, Zachary Ax, Man of a Thousand Thoughts, Rebecca herself), the Third Bill got it right on Hooty, and Dana won’t be more specific about that.

         They found out about the shortening during S2; They had an ending in mind that Dana had in mind since development, but it needed too much setup and so they couldn’t pull it off. All of Season 2A was written before knowing the cancellation; Follies at the Coven Day Parade was the first episode fully written knowing the show was shortened, hence the tonal change. The Galdorstones was an arc Dana planned more on, as well as the Coven Heads; Bat Queen; It was a hard situation choosing what to leave out.

         There weren’t whole episodes written that had to be trashed; Just one-sentence ideas on a whiteboard never fully outlined or scripted. But Dana is still happy with what came out, because it was pretty damn cool.

         Rebecca Rose once saw someone with a King sweatshirt like hers at Disneyland and said hi, but they just side-eyed her and didn’t respond; Despite this, Rebecca hopes they had a happy day and believes they were just having a bad time. Sarah joked about not being so forgiving.

         String Bean’s inspiration: Owlbert is in the title of the show, String Bean indeed was there the whole time! The S wasn’t completely intentional at first, but Dana flipped the logo around and figured it out. When making the first episode, the logo wasn’t finalized. They always liked the idea of Luz being connected to snakes, it’s what she brought to school and they liked her reclaiming something she terrorized her classmates with. The Snake-Shifter idea specifically; Zach Marcus just said “Snake-Shifter” as they brainstormed ideas and Dana, being a sucker for lame puns, was sold.

         That was indeed Dana being represented as a student in the epilogue! She was Beastkeeping and Oracle; Dana can see the future of the show, and really likes animals. Raine’s palisman was indeed hidden within the violin’s design; Hunter and Dell worked to fix the palismen after Raine broke it trying to stop Belos. The violin is more akin to the staff, anyhow. Dana considered responding to a question about general Caleb, Evelyn, and Flapjack lore, but Sarah insisted she stay silent in case they get to answer it as an actual story later.

         Dana liked to think while writing Thanks to Them; No, Evelyn’s spirit isn’t in Flapjack. But to Philip, he saw Flapjack as the culmination of the corruption in his brother Caleb; He saw Flapjack, if it weren’t for YOU. You can see a hint of it in Masha’s story, Evelyn entices Caleb with Flapjack, who was Caleb’s introduction to magic. Evelyn was probably disguised as a human, and trusted Caleb for seeming reasonable and less violent. Perhaps like Dog owners passing each other by and suddenly becoming friends over this.

         Evelyn and Caleb’s relationship was sweet, from platonic curiosity to romantic. Eda doesn’t know she’s descended from them, nor does Hunter; And Dana has more to say, but will keep it hidden. Luz will stay the majority of her stay in the isles as she goes to college. Camila bought the shack leading to the human world, which allowed Luz to visit during holidays, weekends, etc.

         They never got to explore it, but it could’ve originally been the home of Philip and Caleb, long abandoned; Eda emerges after discovering the portal. In the next thirty years, she fixes up the shack as she builds the Owl House. Dana also advised fans to google Death of the Author, since she’s technically no longer working on the show, and thus gives permission for fans to write their own answers.

         Eda became the Owl Lady before Owlbert, due to the curse; They planned to do an episode where Eda learned palismen carving with Dell, and how Eda reclaimed the Owl identity to carve Owlbert. Dana stills has the outline of that episode in her head…

         According to Rebecca, Caleb and Philip’s graves were in the basement of the shack, based on this church in New Haven Dana passed by every day on her way to school (Gravesfield is based on some places in Connecticut). However, Dana realized the graves didn’t fit into the story. They also had an ‘original’ Belos design for him taking over animals. Marina Gardner did some amazing Belos designs, and Thanks to Them alluded to it.

         The Portal’s eye comes from the Titan’s missing eye!!! Hunter is bisexual, Willow is pansexual, this is how Dana always wrote and imagined them in her mind, but it’s not explicitly stated so technically it’s more headcanon. Dana noted how some people just picked it up. Dana likes to think Amity and Lilith rekindled their student-mentor relationship. Having worked in the library, Amity was interested in Lilith’s knowledge of history. Dana suggested to Zarya(?) from the design team to add notes to Lilith’s museum blueprints. A helicopter passed over and they joked it was Disney trying to stop spoilers.

         Cissy only got her lines and didn’t know any other details about the finale, to Dana’s surprise; Dana explained that people not getting a full script is due to the pandemic. Before quarantine, actors would get the full script. They have to rely on Eden Riegel and Dana for context a lot. Bosook Coburn spoiled Luz’s death to Rebecca Rose during the celebration party. They came up with a lot of designs for dying Luz, trying to figure out how they can hollow out her head how much. Dana mentions it’s up to the showrunner to show how much they want to the actors.

         Thanks to Sarah, they kept in Luz saying her own SFX during her fight with Eda in O Titan, Where Art Thou; She heard someone do it as part of the mock script and wanted it. When Dana voiced Eda and Luz at the end, Dana was crying. There’s a recording of Season 2B and Season 3 of Dana doing a voice-over of the script to get approved by executives.

         Dana clarified everyone would’ve had more of a chance to talk with each other, such as Hunter and Amity; Hunter would’ve talked to Vee, as well as more human realm kids, literally everyone would’ve had a little more time with each other. Dana loves Luz and Hunter’s sibling dynamic. Dana was sorry they couldn’t have Luz and Raine hang out, but they had the Hexsquad storyline. Luz finished high school in the human world, with the renewed motivation that she’ll go back to the isles. Knowing she has a safe space outside of high school made it more bearable, as was the case for Dana growing up.

         Cissy brought up Gus’ hair in the epilogue, which she loved; Emmy Cicierga did the design for Gus and Raine. Harpy Lilith was by Emmy; Dana did Emira, Eberwolf, and Skara’s timeskip designs. The name of the Titan is unpronounceable for humans.

         Dana can’t say much about the Archivists; The Collector never had a flash-forward design, as they age much more slowly than everyone else. Maybe the Collector got just a tiny bit taller. The idea of the Collector came from creepy dolls, as well as a nightmare; John Bailey Owen had a google folder filled with cool references of creepy dolls with a starry aesthetic, liminal minimalist nightmare-scape. They knew who the Collector was gonna be, what role they’d play, but the vibe still needed to be decided.

         Dana confirmed the Collector was always a part of the show before the shortening, and they solidified their placement after the announcement. The Collector has indeed stayed connected with the others, visits occasionally. Dana has seen fan comics on this and teared up.

         Hooty doesn’t have to be vacated from the Owl House if he doesn’t want to; When the door isn’t active, Hooty could be present. The new portal can probably fold up, and Hooty is busy as a curator for Hooty’s new museum.

         Dana said Raine and Eda’s business is their business; Not all love stories end in marriage. It’s their thing and it doesn’t diminish any love, but they do live in the Owl House together (Raine moved in).

         Mattholomule getting a palisman is something Zach Marcus can answer, since he made the character and Dana respects the lore he made. It’s hard to say for Dana if Vee and Masha are dating, since Masha didn’t show up in the finale, but Vee definitely has a crush on them. Again, Dana encourages the Death of the Author approach, if the headcanon makes you happy.

         Alador and Odalia got officially divorced after the finale, and the kids happily lived away from her. They might visit her if they have the energy, but also recognize she’s a toxic influence they can cut off at any point. Dana gave a shoutout to Rachel McFarlane’s voice acting, praising her performance for Odalia.

         In regards to the tower King was born in, Dana has an answer; It was related to a character we all know, who now may have amnesia.

         There was a plan to explore Gus and Willow’s glowing eyes, and do it for other characters; Amity wasn’t going to have that, strong emotions are indeed connected to magic. It was mostly a worldbuilding magic rule they could’ve expanded on, that Dana wishes she did early in the story.

         In the boards, Dawn Han(?) did Clouds on the Horizon, and did the scene of Amity and the twins hiding in the factory as their parents talk about the Abomatons, Alador is worried since it seems like a tad much. Alador had T-rex arms in the storyboard, and it reminded Dana of Remy from Ratatouille, so when they got to the scene of them looking into Alador’s lab, Ratador was drawn in his place as a joke. Dana laughed so hard she decided to keep it in, with Dana handwaving it as Alador’s palisman.

         According to Dana, a show should be appreciated for as it is; But the other way to enjoy it, under the context it was made, is also important to her; Both ways are valid. It was easier for Sarah to voice depressed Luz since she was also depressed. The writers preferred to put their feelings into the show, VS a more happy-go-lucky approach as others did; It was kind of dark for a bit, especially during quarantine. Sarah felt her own experience validated with Luz’s depression, but she and Dana appreciated the balance of having a happy ending too.

         What made the crew hopeful was knowing the characters would always have a happy ending; Luz could continue her studies in full-force, a new family. They KNEW it would end happy. Dana acknowledged how the fandom misinterpreted “I hate the term happy endings,” and Sarah knew about the quincenera when asked during previous Post-Hoots, but couldn’t answer.

         Rebecca commissioned 3D-printed Funko Pops of S2A Lilith and S1 Luz, and gave them to the others as gifts; Rebecca didn’t know about Avi’s appearance until two days before the Post-Hoot, otherwise she would’ve had a Funko of Raine made. Dana’s stand for Luz had to be made with painter’s tape (she appreciated it) due to Rebecca running out of the other kind, and planned to place it beside her Peabody award. Elizabeth Grullon, Camila’s VA, had to call her mom in the middle of a session to translate her line about maduros into English.

        Cissy clarified this wasn’t intended to be the final Post-Hoot! And the video was ended with a BBBBYYYEEEEE!!!!!

[googleitlol]

Two questions! Well, one’s more like a prompt/scenario, but I’m still saying it!

Do you have any plans on getting back to your “The Memory of You” fanfic in the future? Because I’m a certified Macaque wimp (right there with Wukong) and I’m dying to know everything that happened between him and Lian!😭

And second:

I just got myself Black Myth Wukong brainrot and I randomly thought of a situation where Dove would wake up from a nightmare about Wukong’s death, and she instinctively places a hand over the Destined One’s heart to hear it beating because of his resemblance and everything. And the Destined One just helps hold her hand to his chest and resting his own hand over hers until she calms down🥲💘💞

1) Omg tbh I didn't realise ppl were still reading that one! I'm focusing on PoM rn so I don't think I'll be getting to it anytime soon unfortunately. I do wanna continue it tho, and rewrite some stuff too! My google doc is so big for TMoY that if you wanted, I could totally answer some asks about it. Since I'm focusing on Dove and Wukong rn, I wouldn't mind sharing some secrets about Lian and Macaque's past (I will yap so much abt them, I love Lian she's my sweetheart).

I also took a break from writing that fic because, uhhhhh… I had only seen part of season 4 when I started writing the backstory for Lian, did some research into chinese mythology and legends I could pull from… then after posting a bunch of chapters, I watched the rest and realised I accidentally made her backstory/creation extremely similar to someone else (if you're caught up on the show, you'll know who I'm talking about). They both involve, uh… similar people?? So I got spooked and decided to wait a bit to see if that character's backstory would be like what I'd written for Lian and… it's starts out very similar 💀

But honestly, I think I'm gonna keep it the same cuz I love Lian, and I love the story I've made for her and Macaque. So if you've got any questions abt them, I'd be happy to answer until I shift my focus back onto TMoY.

2) Oh, and… my god. I love this idea of yours. That dream. Hoo boy, that dream. I love it when people understand the sort of angst I wanna put Dove under. Running to her love, knowing what's about to happen but too far to stop it. Maybe if he saw her, if he knew she was coming, maybe he'd still be there. But no matter how much her throat scratches as she screams, no sound is made. No matter how fast she runs, how far she pushes herself, nothing changes.

The Destined One frowns, he's seen her like this on so many nights. There's something that's plaguing her… he just doesn't know what. She shuts him down at any and all moments he has to inquire about her night-terrors. Still, he's found a subtle way to help in the best way he can. After one night where she reached out for him and he let her hand press against his chest, he noticed how she calmed a bit.

That becomes their nightly ritual. Whenever he notices how she starts to mumble in her sleep, shout and cry, he'll cuddle up next to her and hold her in his arms. He'll keep her head pressed against his chest so she can hear his heart– that always calms her down. As long as she has something, her hand or even an ear pressed to his heart, she'll calm down. Maybe the first few nights he started doing this, she'd cuddle up to him a bit. He'd be awkward about it at first, but eventually grow used to it. After a while, he'd find that he actually really enjoys spending those nights with Dove in his arms.

[fandom-go-round]

For an original monster this month could I ask for nsfw with fem!reader and the fem!ghost that's haunting her house? I was thinking maybe something masturbation related since I imagine the ghost wouldn't exactly have a tangible body? Idk, I trust you to write what you think works best. No noncon please but dubcon is fine.

Warnings: Sex, Sexual Situations, Masturbation, Ghost Sex, Mirror Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Dub-Con

            You don’t notice her at first, getting ready for bed and humming along to your phone. It had been a long day; work was a nightmare and your dinner plans got canceled. You had curled up on the couch, drank a glass of wine and headed to bed. Better to end the day while you were still ahead. It was only after you were half undressed, turning your music off, that you saw her.

            At the end of you bed was a mirror, gilded gold frame with vines and leaves. The previous owners had left it when they moved out and you thought it was gorgeous. It wasn’t normally your style but something about the mirror made it so you couldn’t throw it out. You did move it from the bathroom to your room; it was big enough to span your entire dresser and helped with getting dressed in the morning. Instead of your own reflection staring back at you, there was a woman.

            You’ve known, unconsciously or not, about the ghost in your house for a while now. They’ve never done anything horrible, mostly moving things around or hiding your keys. At night you could hear singing and after putting up cameras (they were cheaper than therapy to start with) you’ve caught this ghost in the act! You’ve never seen the ghost, however, and you’re pretty sure ghosts aren’t supposed to be doing that.

            The woman in the mirror has her legs splayed open, fingers circling her clit slowly as she fucked herself with two fingers. Your mouth fell open, eyes wide as you watched her get off. It looked like she was laying on your bed but when you looked, there was no one on top of your covers. When you turned back to the mirror, she was looked at you, a smirk on her lips. Her eyes were bright and glowing, the color of moonlight. She was an eerie shade of green-blue, yellow flickering at the corners. She was also completely naked and getting off in your bed.

            You hesitated for only a second, wondering if this was a good idea before you stripped the rest of the way down. You could feel her watching you, eyes hungry as you laid on the comforter. The bed was cold and you shivered; the woman in the mirror moaned and started to fuck herself faster. You watched her for a moment, squeeze a breast before making your way to your clit.

            You weren’t ready to go as hard as the woman but she slowed down, the two of you starting to match movements. You slid a finger inside, groaning at the wetness there and the woman in the mirror copied you, squirming against the bed. She was closer than you were but you were determined to catch up; if you were going to do this, you were going to do it right.

            A few minutes later you were both writhing in bed, clits swollen and wet and your nipples hard. You pinched your nipple, watching the ghost do the same before looking down at her pussy. She was so wet and you whined; fuck you wanted to taste her. Your eyes glanced up at her face and she smirked, licking her lips slowly. You groaned, throwing your head back. What a fucking tease.

            It didn’t take you long to cum after that, pinching your clit gently between your fingers. You let out another groan, hips grinding into the bed as you slowly came down. Yous eyes were half lidded, watching the ghost follow you over the edge. She recovered faster than you, sitting up after a moment and grinning. She blew you a kiss and then disappeared, the glass slowly unfrosting. Scrawled in the upper corner was a message that made you sigh.

Play again soon <3

[ilguna]

☼ too close pt2 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; it's been a month since Finnick's seen you, and yet he's still having dinner with his ex-girlfriend, making excuses on why you haven't shown up. he can't stomach it anymore, though. he needs to come clean.

warnings; swearing,

wc; 2.5k

notes; highly requested!!

part one.

--

It ends tonight.

Finnick knows he’s said it about a dozen times at this point, but he really can’t continue to lie his way through the situation anymore. Every week when another dinner rolls around, he swears it’s going to be the last time he comes up with an excuse to Annie and Rain on why you can’t attend. 

He means it this time. 

It’s been a month since he’s seen his best friend. That’s thirty days too long. The truth is he should’ve fixed everything the day after you told him how you feel. He should’ve gone home that night and called Annie to tell her the truth about the engagement. He should’ve showed up at your door the next morning with an apology on his tongue.

And he didn’t do any of that. At the moment, all of his emotions were too raw, he wasn’t ready to deal with it. Annie had finally told him she missed him, which felt like a dream come true. It was a sign the past eight months weren’t for nothing, he knew it was a matter of time before she came back to him.

She said so herself, he was the best boyfriend she could’ve asked for. She said he’d been amazing to her, he’d given her everything she wanted. The only real issue they had between them was the fact they didn’t share the same interests. Which he worked hard to change, and he practiced that in the pretend relationship he had with his best friend.

Finnick was on a high, under the impression Annie was going to leave Rain. It never crossed his mind that he was damaging you. In his defense, he thought you were on board with what was happening. You never told him otherwise. You agreed to help him. Which is why he has a hard time taking responsibility for the outcome of that night. 

Maybe he should have considered your feelings more deeply when he went to you with the idea in the first place. Maybe you should’ve told him to find someone else because you weren’t comfortable doing it. 

When you handed his family’s engagement ring back to him and confessed your love, it was a nightmare coming true. He never really considered the possibility, because you’d been friends since high school. If you liked him more than a friend, he thought you might’ve told him sooner. 

It felt like a scene out of a movie. Finnick was put into a position he’d never pictured himself having to deal with before. He didn’t know how to react to you telling him you loved him, besides remembering the original agreement. You promised him nothing would change between you two if you pretended to be his fiancee. 

And that’s all he could think about on the drive home.

What he failed to realize up until recently is that you’ve been bottling those feelings for a long time. By the sounds of it, it started at least when he and Annie had begun dating. So, he did the math, and the time has by far been one of the hardest pills to swallow during this past month. 

It came out to two and a half years.

It’s no wonder why you were so upset, why you couldn’t stomach it anymore. He would go crazy, too, watching someone he loved get stuck on another relationship. If they asked him to act as their fiance for months on end, while they were completely oblivious of how he felt.

Finnick sighs, twisting the heirloom engagement ring between his thumb and forefinger. A week prior, Annie noticed it was sitting in the bathroom in a jewelry bowl you made for him. It’s in the shape of a seashell to match a theme you picked out for him. You’d gotten tired of almost losing your jewelry down his sink, so that was the solution.

Annie brought it out to Finnick, asking why you didn’t have it with you. Or actually, why you didn’t have it on your finger. Her tone of voice rubbed him the wrong way, as if you were a shitty fiancee, implying you were forgetful. He got snappy back, telling her that he wanted to get it cleaned for you because the polish was old and wearing off.

In reality, he’d made a habit of playing with it when he thought of the different ways he could apologize to you and mend the broken friendship. Rain took the ring from Annie, inspected it, and then offered for his brother to make it look brand new, if Finnick wanted. He accepted, Rain dropped the ring into a tiny velvet bag he had on him for occasions like these—apparently he does this often for friends—and took it.

Finnick just got it back tonight, and he’s already back to messing with it. 

He gently sets the ring down on the table, using his hand to cover it from his sight. He turns his attention to the plate in front of him, finding the dinner Annie cooked and brought over. She’s not the best chef, but there was one recipe she perfected. By coincidence, it was his favorite home cooked meal his mother used to make on special occasions.

He’s had a couple of bites from his plate, but it doesn’t taste the way it used to when he was dating her. In fact, it’s worse. He’s already lost his appetite. He was hoping Rain was going to cook like he said he was, Annie must’ve overruled him. Maybe this is supposed to be another sign from her, telling him that she misses him. 

Finnick doesn’t care.

“When do you think (Y/n)’s coming back from her trip?” Rain asks politely, pushing the buttery rice around his plate with a fork. Not even he’s hungry for what she made.

“Soon.” Finnick says, taking a breath to say something more, maybe about how she’s enjoying her parents’ company too much, but the words don’t come out. All it’ll be is another lie.

“Really?” Annie asks, face twisting. “You said that she would be home sometime this week, before the dinner.”

“Did I?” Finnick asks, eyebrows drawing in. He doesn’t even remember what they had for dinner last week, much less the lies he told. Or if any of it was mixed with the truth. How did you manage to keep Annie and Rain convinced you two were engaged for so long? It’s exhausting.

“Yes, Finnick.” Annie’s frustrated, he can tell by the way she shakes her head when she speaks. And the use of his name. “You told me that she’d be here tonight. That’s why I made so much food.”

She motions to the different dishes laid across the center of his dining room table. Earlier, when she and Rain were setting them down, all Finnick could think about was how much leftovers there would be. How much he’d be forced to take and throw away later, because her food doesn’t reheat well. 

This makes Finnick remember a time where Rain told him how thankful he was that you would give them the leftovers. The less he had to eat Annie’s food, the better. Finnick knows he felt the same at one point. Once he started to eat your cooking, he forgot about how horrible he had it for over a year. He’d even gained some weight back.

“Oh, well—” Finnick starts.

“I tried to give her a call.” Annie places her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm. “I wanted to ask myself because you’ve been so dodgy, but she doesn’t pick up. Or answer any of my texts. I’ve sent her easily a hundred now, trying to get together with her for a girls night if she doesn’t want to do a couples dinner. Still no answer. It’s kinda rude of her.”

Finnick presses his lips together. You probably blocked her after the first couple of messages and calls. Like you did to him. He tried to reach out when he got his head screwed on right, and you were reading the texts at first. And then you stopped, it’s all just left on delivered now.

“She’s not obligated to answer you, babe.” Rain tells Annie. 

“I would think so, since we’re friends.” She rolls her eyes, sitting back in the chair. “If the roles were reversed, I’d hope she would check on me.” Annie puts her hand on top of Rain’s. “Which is why I’ve decided that we’re going to stop by her house later this week to see her in person.”

Finnick makes a face, Annie catches it before he can relax. 

“Why’d you look at me like that?” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He tells her. “If she wanted to talk to you, she would.”

“Finnick, respectfully, I really don’t care what you think.” She waves her hand. “I’m tired of the excuses every week. First it was that she was sick, and then she made other plans, and now she was on a week and a half trip. You told me she’d be here today, and you don’t even remember it.” 

“Is she mad at us?” Rain asks.

“No.” Finnick shakes his head. “No, she’s fine.”

“Then where is she?” Annie asks. “Because you’re clearly lying.”

Finnick sucks in a breath, holding it. He’s caught. Annie can see right through his lies better than anyone. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been doing some investigating in the background. The only reason why she didn’t figure out the engagement was because you noticed how observant she could be, she likes to be correct.

“Not…” Finnick starts, trailing off. He doesn’t want to do this. He would rather hide. “Not everything is what it seems between (Y/n) and I.”

“What do you mean?” Annie asks.

He averts his eyes. “We’ve been having problems. I haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks, since the last time we all had dinner together.”

The room gets quiet, Rain is the first to speak. “Why?”

“We’re—uh—we’re at different places right now.” Finnick stutters. “You know.”

“No, I don’t know.” Annie’s eyes have narrowed. 

“Is it the engagement? You two did kinda jump the gun on it.” Rain says.

“Yes.” Finnick says, almost going in the right direction. “Yes, we don’t think we’re ready for that quite yet. It was the wedding planning, it was freaking her out.”

“That’s not it.” Annie says. “Come on, Finnick.”

“Well… it’s not completely a lie.” He reasons, swallowing hard. “We’re definitely not ready for that type of commitment.”

Finnick cringes inwardly, did he really just say that? Commitment? As if Annie didn’t say the exact same thing to him? He’s using his past breakup to get him out of this conversation faster. Pathetic.

“Why?” Annie emphasizes.

Finnick opens his mouth, and then closes it. “We weren’t actually engaged.” He says slowly, as if it’ll make him feel better. He can feel his face getting hotter, thinking about what to say next, the why. Is the air conditioning even working in his apartment? “I asked her to pretend to be my fiancee because…” 

The words won’t come out.

“Because?” Annie prompts.

“Because,” Finnick swallows hard, “I had feelings for you. I loved you. When you told me that you were dating Rain, I was jealous. And so I asked (Y/n) to be my fiancee, I wanted you to regret leaving me.”

“Uh…” Rain lets out, disturbed. He looks between Annie and Finnick, clearly not liking the conversation. “Maybe we should leave.”

Annie holds up a hand to silence her boyfriend. “You wanted to make me jealous? Why would you think we’d get back together?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Finnick tells her. He’s beginning to feel better, like the weight of the lie has already been lifted off his chest. “I don’t feel that way anymore.” He gets to his feet. “If this mess has taught me anything, it’s that you’re not worth it.” 

“What?” Annie asks, standing up from her chair. “I’m not worth it?”

Finnick ignores her, looking at Rain. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I actually intended on forcing her to break up with you. And I agree, you should probably leave.” He turns his head to eye Annie. “It was a mistake trying to keep you in my life, Annie.”

Annie flinches as if a pot of boiling hot water has been thrown on her. “A mistake? You just said you were trying to get me back? You’ve already changed your mind?”

“Annie.” Rain says, still seated.

Finnick’s expression is filled with disgust. “Why do you care? You’ve got your boyfriend right next to you.” He reminds her. “I have missed (Y/n) more than I ever missed you. I would rather have her in my life. She actually makes me happy. You made me miserable.”

—

Finnick adjusts the vase of flowers, arranging them to face the front door for when you answer. He was lucky there was still a florist open tonight, since tomorrow is a holiday, almost every place was closing early. It didn’t help that Annie had a meltdown in his dining room, it took both Rain and Finnick to get her out of the house.

Finnick had to promise to give Rain his dishware back later this week. He doesn’t think they’re going to stay together for much longer. Especially considering that Annie admitted she was thinking about leaving Rain soon. If it wasn’t awkward before in the room, it was after that.

He takes a breath, raising his fist to knock on your door.

He can do this.

Finnick knocks three times, and then takes a step back to wait. It feels weird being back here after being away for so long. A month was definitely too long. He wouldn’t blame you if you took a look through your window and decided he wasn’t worth your time. If you did, he’d leave you alone. 

The lock on the door turns, he can hear it. All of what he rehearsed comes back to him in one giant wave, overwhelming him instantly. By the time the door opens fully, his mind blanks and his mouth goes dry.

His heart jumps at the sight of you, and then sinks when he realizes how tired you are. The flowers lower in his hands, lips downturning. “I am so, so sorry (Y/n).” Finnick says quietly. “I never meant to hurt you this deeply.”

“I know.” You tell him.

“I never should’ve asked you to do that. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea. I just—”

“You were in love.” You say. “People do stupid things when they’re in love.”

Finnick shakes his head. “You’re not stupid.”

Your face twists suddenly, “I feel like it.”

“You’re not. You’re human.” Finnick says. “We’ve known each other for a long time. It was bound to happen.” 

“Yeah.”

“I miss you.” Finnick murmurs. “I got these for you.”

You push your door open a little further, allowing him to see inside. “You wanna come in so we can talk about it?”

“Yes.” Finnick comes closer. “Thank you.”

[vivalas-vega]

Oooh my, your requests are freaking open???? I've got an idea in my head for a long time and now I give it a try and send it to you. I'm obsessed with Jake (and Bradley) x Roomie (fem reader or oc) trope, so apologies in advance for this one (also a sucker for hurt and comfort 😬). I try to keep it as short as possible: Rooster's and Hangman's new roomie has a sad past. She has sleeping issues and bad nightmares. They hear her whimpering and crying in her sleep. The guys are worried but she plays it down, feeling bad for waking them up with her shit. Maybe she starts to sleep walking and unfortunately hurts herself during this episode. The guys find her in the middle if the night hurt. And she opens up to them telling them about her dreams and her past.

ahhhh !!! I'm so glad to finally get this one posted, I'm so sorry it took so long ! I am such a sucker for the roommate trope, and I love writing stories that are strictly platonic, just focusing on lovely friendship vibes bc those are just as important as the romantic ones !!! I hope you enjoy!

(this doesn't have a title yet bc it's admittedly the thing I'm the worst at when it comes to writing fics)

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some suggestive humor, language, brief and vague mentions of death, lmk if I missed any

“Are you going to eat these leftovers?” you asked Bradley, who was sitting at the kitchen island keeping you company as you cleaned out the fridge and he stared at the tupperware container for an infuriatingly long time, contemplating his options before you let out an exasperated sigh. “Bradshaw, it’s pasta. Yes or no?”

“No,” he finally answered. “You’re in a mood.” 

“No mood, it would just be nice if you could be snappier in your responses while you just watch me clean the kitchen.”

“Yeah, definitely not in a mood,” he muttered under his breath but you heard it anyway. “Do you know where Hangman is?”

“You two share a bathroom and you still can’t call him by his name?” you asked with a chuckle. “He’s at the gym, should be back soon.”

“We only share a bathroom because you got the master,” he protested and you laughed again.

“I needed the bigger closet,” you shrugged. “I told you you’re welcome to use mine anytime.”

“After you reamed me for using your face wash? Thank you, but no thank you, I haven’t been yelled at like that since I borrowed my moms car to take Cindy Daniels on a date.”

“I only yelled because you used a forty dollar cleanser as body wash and somehow managed to use half the bottle. Besides, your mom was right to yell at you too, you stole her car and you were thirteen.”

“I was covered in grease! And my date with Cindy is none of your business.” 

“Are we having the face wash fight again?” Jake asked as he came in through the garage, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he reached around you to grab a bottle of water, but you only pushed him away, muttering something about keeping his sweat away from you. “Take the blame, Chicken, you wasted half a bottle of Drunk Elephant, you’re lucky she didn’t put you on the porch for the night.”

“See, the craziest thing about this whole situation is you were just as outraged as she was.”

“Good skincare is not just for women, you might want to invest in a routine of your own.” he smirked before disappearing down the hallway and you heard the sound of the shower turning on.

“You working tomorrow?” Bradley asked, getting up to wash the containers you’d placed near the sink.

You shook your head, “a Friday and Saturday off, Penny was feeling extra generous.” You’d met the two of them, along with the rest of the team, when they’d first gotten to town for the infamous and secretive mission that almost claimed the life of the man currently donning cherry-printed cleaning gloves and scrubbing pasta sauce out of tupperware. You’d all become fast friends, they’d coax you out from behind the bar on your breaks or when your shift was over for darts or pool, and when your lease was up just as they received word of a permanent assignment it seemed to make sense for the three of you to find a place together. It was a godsend for you, it got you out of your cramped apartment with dismal lighting and into a beautiful craftsman only a few blocks away from the beach. Even with arguments with Bradley about face wash and a sweaty Jake, it was a no-brainer.

“Could we convince you into coming to your place of work on a night off? These new recruits are testing our patience, Phoenix wants a fun night out to blow off steam.”

“I could potentially be persuaded,” you replied, shutting the fridge after deeming it was as cleared out as it was going to get. 

“Which translates to as long as I’m not mixing them, I’ll always show up for drinks,” Jake said, walking back into the kitchen with freshly washed hair. “Do I get any kind of welcome home now that I’m not sweaty?” 

“No, because now you’re wet, did you even dry off?” you asked, snapping him with a dish towel before he rounded the island and wrapped his arms around you.

“Enough,” he answered, squeezing you tight as you pretended to hate it. Really, you loved living with these two. Being on your own before was starting to take its toll on you, and they reminded you of a different time in your life, one that felt like it was ancient history. “Not to dampen the mood, but… we did want to talk to you about something.”

“Sounds serious, should I break out the house meeting wine?” you asked, eyeing them skeptically as they shared a look with each other that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“We just wanted to… check in,” Bradley started and you raised your eyebrows. “The past few weeks we’ve heard certain sounds coming from your room and-”

“Okay, first of all,-” you started to cut him off, eyes wide at what you thought he was insinuating.

“Not like that, sweetheart,” Jake interjected. “But feel free to get louder when you do,” he half-joked and you hit him with the towel again. “What bird boy is trying to say is sometimes we hear what sounds like nightmares coming from your room and it’s happened enough that we just want to check in and see if everything is okay.” You suddenly felt nauseous. 

“If there’s something going on, or you need someone to talk to, you know we’re here, right?” Bradley asked and you nodded softly.

“I know, everything is fine, I’m sorry if I woke you.” you said, trying to dismiss their concerns altogether as you occupied yourself with looking over the mail.

“It’s just… it doesn’t sound fine, if you don’t want to talk to us we can help you find someone else to talk to, we just want to make sure you’re okay.” Jake tried and you gave him a forced smile.

“And I am, but I’m glad the two of you finally found something to agree on.” You tossed some junk mail in the garbage before turning to face them again, “I have some errands I want to run early tomorrow morning… text me if you need anything from the store but I’m going to turn in. Goodnight,” you said with another forced smile before heading down the hall and letting out a sigh as your back pressed against your closed bedroom door. You thought that things had gotten better… that enough time had passed. They seemed to be happening less and less, but maybe that wasn’t as true as you once thought. 

Your footsteps down the hallway were an unusual sound for this time of night… nightmares or not, once you went to bed you weren’t seen until the following morning and it was enough to stir Jake from his slumber. You on the other hand, were completely unaware of what was going on, still stuck in a dream, stuck in a fluorescent lit hallway with tears streaming down your face only you weren’t… you were in your living room, walking straight into the console table and falling onto the broken glass of the picture frames and vases you’d knocked over which was enough to jolt both of them out of bed. 

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Bradley asked, crouching down beside you as you came to.

“Mav- Maverick?” you asked, voice hoarse as you struggled to place where you were, the images from your dream still fresh in your mind. He looked at Jake confused who was on the other side of you and carefully pushing glass aside.

“No, it’s Bradley… Honey, what happened?” You blinked a few times, finally recognizing you were on the floor of your living room and the searing pain of broken glass in your palms and knees.

“I don’t- oh my god. I’m so sorry,” you winced as you tried to stand but Jake was quick to scoop you up, holding you tight as he walked to the kitchen and carefully placed you next to the sink while Bradley grabbed the first aid kit. “I- I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m okay, you can go back to bed.” He just frowned at you and when Bradley returned he started pulling the shards from your palms while Jake worked on your knees. Silent tears were still streaming down your face and they were both trying to figure out how to ask you what was wrong, but one thing they knew for certain was no one was going back to bed until they got to the bottom of what was going on with you.

“Sweetheart, do you want to tell us what’s going on?” Jake asked softly, looking up briefly to meet your eyes before gently running his thumb along your cuts, making sure there weren’t any pieces he missed. 

You shook your head as you wiped your cheeks, “nothing, I just… I don’t know, I guess I was half-asleep? I’m really sorry I woke you,” you said and they both looked at you like they didn’t believe a word of it.

“Alright, I was willing to maybe let it go before but you could have been seriously hurt tonight. Something is going on with you,” Jake said, voice firm as he stopped what he was doing to wipe a few of your tears.

“Whatever it is, you can tell us. Why did you say Maverick’s name when you woke up?” Bradley asked and you closed your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath before letting it all out. 

“I uh… there’s something I never told you about me.” you started, taking a moment to breathe as you felt your throat tighten. They stayed quiet, both carefully dabbing at your cuts with a damp cloth or rubbing aquaphor over them before bandaging them. “I wasn’t a teacher before realizing I liked bartending more, I was a pilot.”

“Wait, what?” Bradley asked, shock evident in his tone and Jake elbowed him, eyes silently pleading for you to continue. 

“My callsign is- or was Flash… like the superhero,” you chuckled but there wasn’t much humor in it and both of their eyes widened. “I was on a mission that went south really fast,  we were outnumbered and outgunned, we ran out of resources quickly. I was hit, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t save it, I couldn’t save him.” you choked out.

“Who?” Bradley whispered, you were all cleaned up now and they were both focused solely on you. Jake was rubbing reassuring circles on your thigh as Bradley held one of your hands in his own.

“My wizzo, we called him Genie… we both got to our squad at the same time, and on our first night out his icebreaker was if you had three wishes, what would you wish for?” You laughed again, but this time it was genuine.

“I’ve heard of him,” Jake said, noticing your breathing quicken just at the mention of him. “Both of you, actually, from what I’ve heard you were a hell of a pilot.”

“He couldn’t eject, something went wrong with the handles… I’d already pulled mine when I heard him say they were stuck and the next thing I know the jet is crashing into a hillside below me. I thought the dreams were getting better, and that I was maybe starting to move past it… I don’t think I really registered that it was happening again, or maybe that it never stopped.” 

“Honey, why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” Bradley asked, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and you focused your gaze on your hands.

“I just… I didn’t want you to know that I failed my wizzo,” you choked out. “Or that the last time I was in a cockpit I nearly crashed again and Mav had to talk me through landing a plane I’ve landed thousands of times before because I panicked. I didn’t want you guys to censor yourselves when it came to work stuff out of pity for me being a failed pilot, and I guess… I just didn’t want you guys to look at me differently.”

“Hey, what happened wasn’t your fault,” Jake said, squeezing your thigh gently and prompting you to look up at him. “And we would never look at you differently for that, we understand.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that… and just know that we don’t think of you as a failure. We’ve both heard about that mission, there was nothing you could have done. Faulty equipment and being outgunned is not your burden to bear.” Bradley added, running a hand along your back.

“What is it that you say sometimes? It’s not the plane, it’s the pilot?” you asked, sadness seeping into your tone and he just pulled you into his side and pressed a kiss to your head.

“There’s not much the pilot can do if the plane fails them.”

“You went through a trauma, we would never fault you for not flying again after that.” Jake said and you smiled softly.

“Mav could�� god, he tried so hard, he was really there for me after it happened, but… when I finally got back into a plane I just couldn’t shake it. It was like I could still hear him in my backseat even though he wasn’t there.”

“Just because Mav could, that doesn’t mean you’re a lesser pilot or a lesser person for not being able to, if anything I think it makes you stronger. You knew your limits, and instead of pushing through it when you couldn’t trust flying again you took a step back. I know a lot of people who wouldn’t make that same choice.” Bradley said, nudging Jake and you let out a laugh as you wiped your face again.

“Yeah, I thank my lucky stars I never crossed this one’s path when I was still flying,” you said and Jake’s face twisted up in shock.

“Hey, why are we ganging up on me now?” he asked and you laughed again. 

“You make it so easy,” you teased and they both smiled, happy to see you coming back into yourself a little.

“We’re here for you, okay? So is everyone else,” Bradley said, pulling you into him again and you let yourself wrap your arms around him as you laid your head on his chest and Jake kept rubbing circles into your skin.

“No matter what, you can always come wake us up if you need someone.”

“I love you guys, you know that?” 

You could hear the smirk in Jake’s voice as he said, “oh, we know.” He wrapped himself around the other side of you as the two of them squished you between them. “We love you too.”

taglist: @callsignspirit @thegodessc @failuretothrivestuff @olliepig @cruelmissdior @underaveragefangirl @grxcieluvr @amatswimming @camilaricci @nolita-fairytale @dempy @pinkpantheris @aviatorobsessed @tiredqueen73 @pono-pura-vida @binnieslove @nik2blog @waklman @abaker74 @halstead-severide-fan @percysaidnever @memeorydotcom @eli2447 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @djs8891 @Genius2050 @stargazer-88 @chloeforde @kmc1989 @casa-boiardi (if your name is struck through, it means I couldn't tag you - sorry!)

[maifos]

Since I heard her name I couldn't get the similarities between Galicea (fantasy high) and Galatea (Greek mythology). The myth of Galatea is basically that an incredibly skilled sculptor was incredibly repulsed by the idea that women could speak and express themselves, but he still wanted a girlfriend so he made a marble statue and named her Galatea (Roughly translate to white as milk). But he soon realized that a less comfortable body pillow wasn’t the best option for a fulfilling relationship so he asked Aphrodite for help. The goddess then transformed Galatea into a real woman who, unfortunately, could talk and have emotions and opinions so their whole thing kind of fell apart. All this to say, I think this myth of Galatea where she is only accepted when she follows a very strict set of rules laid out for her by the person who is supposed to love her, has some very intriguing parallels to Galacea the “werewolf moon” goddess, being forced into just “moon” goddess she isn’t by her followers, who only accept her as a restricted version of herself that can’t express the werewolf aspect of her divinity.

I don’t know if this was intentional on Brennan's part, but considering there have been a lot of different parallels with characters with greek myth inspired/adjacent names i wouldnt put it past him. Either way I hope we get to see more interactions between Cassandra and Galicea because I wanna know what their sibling relationship was. Were they on good terms? Was it another Abernant situation? What did Galacea think of Ankarna? How did Galicea react when her sister became the nightmare king? Did she know? I need the rest of the season to drop tomorrow. I swear to god I wanna know everything KNOW!

[afictionaladventure16]

Could you do meeting stepdad! Pedro for the first time? Please and thank you!😭💗

To Build a Home (Pedro Pascal x Teen!Reader)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

A/N: I feel like this one was too short but I've been having writers block and this is the best I could do! I hope you enjoy it!! <3

Word Count: 2,880

Summary: Your mother decides it is time for you to meet her boyfriend of six months, you are defensive at first, but you think you could get used to the idea of having this one around more often.

This is fine. 

Everything about this situation is okay. 

No need to panic. You thought to yourself. Watching your mother frantically cook in the kitchen as if her life depended on it. You have never seen your mother this frantic since the day your grandmother decided to do a surprise visit. 

“Mom?” you quietly said, walking around the counter. 

“Honey, can you grab me some garlic, it should be next to the bananas… bananas… shit! I forgot to make dessert!” She groaned to herself as she handled the hot pan in front of her. 

You sighed, grabbing the garlic and setting it down on the counter beside her, “Mom,” you said a little louder. 

“What, honey?” She quickly gave you a glance before taking notice of the garlic you had placed on the counter. She grabbed it, taking it over to the cutting board. 

“Can you look at me for a moment?” You asked desperately. 

She sighed, putting down everything before turning to give you her full attention. “Si, Cariño?” 

“I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.” You regretted the words as soon as they had left your mother, seeing the reaction on your mother's face. How her eyes watered and her mouth frowned. 

“But, Cariño, you told me you were ready. We had a whole discussion– I don’t understand.” 

You sighed, “I know, I–I think I’m nervous ‘s all.” 

“Nervous? Sweetie, how do you think we feel?” You shrugged, “Pedro has been messaging me all week about how he wants to cancel because he’s nervous.” She sighed, “Honey, you’re not the only one that is feeling this way.” 

“So, we should cancel?” 

She shook her head, “It’s time for you to meet Pedro.” You feared that she would say that. It only meant one thing. One thing you truly feared, she was deeply in love with him. That what they had was something serious and it could lead to them becoming more than just boyfriend and girlfriend. It meant that you would now have to share your mother with someone and you weren’t sure how you felt about that. 

Especially with how the last time ended. You still had nightmares from when your father was around, images in your head that never left. What if Pedro turned out to be just like your father? 

“Okay,” you felt defeated. Your mother was a person who didn’t budge. Once she had made a decision it was final. 

“Now you either help me cook or you get out of my kitchen,” she stated, turning her body to face the counter once more to busy herself with the garlic in front of her. 

For the longest, it had always been you and your mother. Your father had no visitation rights since you were eight, so for the past five years, you and your mother picked up the pieces and started a new life. A better life. 

Your mother focused mainly on work in the filming industry and eventually, she was able to afford a nice house for the two of you. That’s what it was, just the two of you. You never imagined that one day, it could potentially be three of you. That your mother would one day want to find love again. 

“Do you love him?” You hesitantly asked. 

Your mother stopped everything, letting out a deep sigh, “I’m afraid to answer that question,” she admitted. 

You were afraid she would dodge that question, but also you were sad that she had. You had hoped that your mother wouldn’t tip-toe around the subject with you. Maybe she could be honest with you about a topic that wasn’t common in this household. 

“Be honest with me,” you reassured. “Do you love him?” 

“Love is a strong word,” she whispered. 

“And your daughter meeting him is a big step.” 

“Yes,” she admitted. “I do love him.” 

You gave her a small nod, “Then that’s enough for me.” 

She gave you a smile before walking around the counter to pull you in for a hug, “Thank you.” 

“But this doesn’t mean that I’m not going to give him a hard time, I still don’t trust the man.” You grabbed one of the potatoes that were on the counter, grabbed the peeler, and made your way over to the trash can. “Don’t expect me to call him dad,” you said jokingly, referencing to the movie Stepbrothers. 

Your mother giggled, “I don’t expect that at all from you, amor,” she smiled. 

The hour quickly passed, and you anxiously sat on the couch, your eyes not peeling away from the clock on the wall. Your foot bounced against the wooden floors, creating a gentle but persistent thud. The sound echoed throughout the room and for a moment you were glad your mother was busy in the kitchen, distracting herself with the neatness of the dining room and kitchen and if she had enough time to whip up something quick for dessert. You could hear her muttering to herself about whether Pedro would enjoy a bar of chocolate for dessert or if that was stupid. 

It was any second that Pedro would walk through those doors and your life would change for either the worst or the best. You didn’t know which and you were afraid to find out. 

“Sweetie, are you going to wear that?” Your mom asked as she walked into the living room.

You looked down to see what you were wearing, it was what you had worn to school, a plain tee, flannel, and some jeans. It was casual wear for you, “Um, yes?” She raised her eyebrows, “would you like for me to change?” 

She sighed, “Would it be fucked up for me to say yes?” 

“Kind of, I mean, if he really liked me he wouldn’t care what I wore right? But, on the other hand, I can change to make you feel less anxious.” 

Your mother stood there for a second, thinking about what you had just said. Giving you a small nod, “Don’t change,” she stated. 

You smiled, knowing you had won, “Alright.” 

Your mother's head whipped towards the door at the sound of the doorbell, “Oh my god, that’s him.” She let out a deep breath before looking over at you, “is it too late to cancel?” 

“Hey, I tried earlier but you said it was too late.” 

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, “What the fuck am I doing? I mean, are we even ready for something like this?” 

You sighed, getting up from the couch, “Ama, I think you’ve been ready for a while, you’ve just been scared, but I’m no longer a little girl, Mom. You deserve happiness.” 

She gave you a soft smile, placing a hand on your cheek, “Cuando creciste?” (When did you grow up)

“Cuando no estabas mirando,” you smiled. (When you weren’t looking) 

“Alright, let’s do this,” she whispered. You trailed behind her as she walked towards the door. You stood back, watching as your mother opened the door. She deserved happiness, no matter what. Even at the cost of yours. She deserved it. 

After everything she had been through to protect you, it was the least you could give her. You saw the way she had been these past few months, the after-dates smile, and how she grinned from ear to ear the day after. He made her happy and it scared you, but you couldn’t tell your mother that. You couldn’t ruin it because somehow seeing her so happy made you happy, even if you were weary about the man who was causing it. 

Your mother's voice was muffled as she greeted Pedro on the other side of the door. Meeting him meant a lot of things, it meant that it was no longer the two of you on adventures, that he would more than likely tag along. It meant that eventually, you would have to get used to your mom always being with him. He could be here for breakfast some days and you know what that meant. He could be here for dinners on other days and it also meant expressing boundaries. 

She deserved this happiness. 

“Y/N,” your mother called for you as she stepped aside to let Pedro in. There he was, with a nervous smile playing on his lips and a bouquet of flowers in his hands that you knew was for your mother. “I’d like for you to meet my daughter, Pedro.” 

He let out a nervous laugh, “It’s so nice to finally meet you, your mother speaks so much about you.” He held out his free hand for you to shake, and you gently shook his hand. 

“Nice to meet you too,” you gave him a hesitant smile. 

“Oh! I got you these, your mother said you loved sunflowers and well,” he nervously chuckled, “I hope you like ‘em.” 

You gave him a surprised look, glancing at your mom who grinned from ear to ear, “For me?” He gave you a nod, “T–thank you, I–I don’t know what to say!” Pedro handed you the bouquet that was beautifully displayed sunflowers with a few purple flowers here and there and baby’s breath surrounding them. “They’re beautiful, thank you, Pedro!” 

Pedro grinned from ear to ear, he relaxed a little. He had been nervous all day about handing you the flowers, afraid that you’d reject them. Maybe this dinner wouldn’t be so bad and maybe he could bond with you after all. He knew some things about you from what your mother had said, but it was only some things. He did know the struggles you and your mother had gone through, knowing very well that this transition wasn’t going to be easy for you. Pedro is determined to try his best to get you to trust him because all he wants is to be a positive influence in your life, it was the way he was. His heart broke to hear what you had been through at such a young age and he wished there was something he could do. Something he could do for you and your mother. 

“Well, dinner is ready,” your mother states, “let me show you to the dining room.” 

“I-I’m gonna put these away,” you say as you walk towards the kitchen. You set the flowers on the counter, staring at them for a second. This was the first time anyone had gotten you flowers. Your first time getting flowers were supposed to be meaningful. A moment you’d remember forever and for a second you were afraid he had just ruined that. For just a second and it was gone, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the bouquet. “Don’t,” you whispered to yourself. The sound of your mother's laughter coming from the other room. This all felt too good, it would all soon come tumbling down and you knew that, but you did not know if you could handle it. 

You took in a deep breath before joining your mother and Pedro in the dining room. You sat across from Pedro at the table, “smells good,” you commented as you began piling food on your plate. 

“Thanks, mija,” your mom smiled. 

“So, Y/N, your mother tells me you are in the drama club at school?” You gave him a nod. 

“She’s thinking about starting auditions for actual films soon, right, mija?” 

You shrugged, “It’s still a big maybe.” 

“For film? I mean, it doesn’t hurt to try.” 

“Maybe Pedro could give you some pointers,” your mother suggested. 

You cleared your throat, “So, how many siblings do you have?” 

“Y/N,” your mother warned. 

Pedro chuckled, “It’s okay, Yesenia.” For a moment you forgot your mother had a first name, you were so used to just calling her mom. “I have three siblings.” 

“Pedro, you don’t have to answer her questions, she does thi-” 

“How many sisters and how many brothers?” You asked. 

“Two sisters, one brother.” 

You nod, “Please stop interrogating him,” your mother pleaded. 

You gave her a small glare before looking over at Pedro, “Where are you from?” 

“Chile,” Pedro smiled. He found this amusing and cute. You were protective over your mother and he loved that you were. “Next question?” 

“When did you move here?” 

“That’s a long story.” 

“I have all night, it’s a weekend.” 

“Y/N,” your mother warned. 

Pedro chuckled, “It’s okay.” He looked back over at you, “Long story short, my family moved here when I was very little but we had to go back when I was a little older when I was old enough I moved back on my own to pursue acting.” He gave you the cliff notes of his life, leaving out the personal details that were still hard for him to talk about, but enough to keep you satisfied. Your mother gave Pedro a sincere smile and he smiled back. She knew the longer version of the story and she was grateful he was answering your questions to his best ability. “Next question?” he asked. 

“Do you want more kids?” 

Your mother rolled her eyes, “No,” he chuckled.

“No?” 

“Yes, he said no and I don’t want more kids either, Y/N,” your mother stated.

“Why not?” you directed the question towards Pedro.

“Because of my schedule mostly, but I also never saw myself having kids. I’m already almost fifty and I don’t think it’s fair on the kid to have a parent that old, you know?” 

“Plus, your mother can’t have any more kids and if she could she wouldn’t because childbirth is no joke.” 

You rolled your eyes this time, “Alright, last question.” 

“Hit me with it,” Pedro stated. 

“What are your intentions with my mother?” 

“Y/N!” your mother warned.

Pedro chuckled, “I love your mother and I love spending time with her and right now I would like to get to know you because I know you mean the world to her. I know you both have…” Pedro hesitated, “I don’t intend on hurting your mother in any way. I see myself spending a lot more time with her and hopefully, one day, growing old with her.” 

You watched as his eyes never left your mother, the way they idolized her as if she were the only thing that mattered. He really loved her and you could see it in him, but could you trust him? You didn’t know. It was hard to know. You barely had any trust, to begin with. 

You remained quiet the rest of the dinner, listening to the two of them laugh as they joked around and told stories about some of their dates or their time together on set. He was an actor, he’d be on the road a lot and your mother knew that yet she was okay with it. She was okay with everything about him. 

Your mother got up to answer a phone call, leaving the two of you alone. 

You pushed your food around with your fork, “You okay?” 

You glanced up at Pedro, his eyes showing concern, how you hated that they did that. “Yeah.” 

He sighed, placing his fork down, “You don’t have to like me.” 

“You got me flowers,” you whispered. 

“Your mother kept mentioning how you loved sunflowers, and it felt like the right thing to do.” 

“No one has ever gotten me flowers,” you stated. 

Pedro sighed, “I’m sorry if I stepped over the line or–” 

“No, you didn’t… just taken back ‘s all.” 

He gave you a small nod, “Do you like them?” 

“Love them,” you corrected. Giving him a small smile, he smiled back. “I just… I always kind of dreamt that my dad would be the first person to get me flowers, you know?” 

He nodded, “I’m sorry, I probably should’ve–” 

“It’s okay,” you reassured. 

He sighed, “I’m not him, you know.” You stayed quiet. “I know, you don’t trust me because of him, but I am not him and I’m willing to give you all the time you need in order for you to allow me in your life. I love your mother, Y/N and I hope that if you get to know me and I get to know you… we could develop a sort of bond… would that be okay?” 

There was a little voice inside your head that was screaming yes, she was shouting it so loud that it gave you a headache. Yet, your mouth never moved, seconds passed and you sat there wondering if it would be okay. The little voice argued with the bigger one. One was more naive than the other and one was more hurt than the other. 

Your mother stepped back into the dining room, “I was thinking while on the call, maybe the two of you should hang out together sometime soon? Without me there, get to know each other you know?” 

Pedro smiled, “Sounds good to me, what do you think, Y/N?”

You shrugged before giving your mother a nod. 

She clapped in excitement, “I’ll plan it out for you guys! It’ll be great!” Would that be okay? His voice trailed inside yours for the remainder of the dinner. You wanted it to be okay, but you couldn’t give him an answer, not just yet anyway.

Pedro Pascal Taglist: @Sophieelizabeth01  @tracysnook  @cilliansangel  @change-the-world-someday  @graciegoeskrazy @oggystine93 @t-stark35 @twkobii @picklehat3r @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @white-wolf-buckaroo @steadydragongalaxy @rooting4theantihero @soupinasock @Ilovehotdadsandshit @dzaga890 @marantha @emmasauger @marysucks-blog @pcotato @scrappybear89 @dlwrish @what-ever-man213 @boiohboii @drowning-in-paragraphs @stoneredsworld @xmurph7 @sleepylunarwolf @glossy01 @aot-task141-lover @uwiuwi

[the-s1lly-corner]

angst m, n, o for pomni and/or gangle pleasee:3

Angst alphabet w/ Pomni (M,N,O)

YEEEEEAAAH ANGST ALPHABET!! i need to do better with promoting my alphabet stuff maybe ill reblog the posts for them every week or so idk.... for those who see this post you can find my alphabet posts linked at the bottom of the grand masterlist post in my pinned! prompts: misery, nightmare, opened notes: reader is GN CWs: grief, mentions of self termination thoughts via letting one abstract on purpose though its not dwelled on for long

MISERY

you had abstracted, and thats as good as being dead in the circus

one day you were here and the next you were a monster... can you blame her for being at least a little in shock after youre sent away by caine?

if she ever manages to pull herself back together, its clear that shes going to be changed forever by your absence- and its going to take a while for her to pretend to be fine

if she doesnt, and if she lets herself spiral, shes just going to abstract too

she wouldnt be lying if she said that idea seemed desirable, though

she would if she wasnt so scared, though

sometimes she stops by your door to talk to you, even though she knows shes never going to get an answer in return

shes angry with the situation, this isnt fair- you and her didnt know what you were getting into when you put your headsets on

the idea that you have family out in the real world who will never see you again, and will never know what happened to you only fuels her rage

at least it gives her motivation to get out, even if the chances of her finding your family is low

NIGHTMARE

she somtimes gets nightmares every now and then, much like the one she has in episode 2

they dont happen every night, but when she does have them she doesnt seek you out... youre sleeping, and she doesnt want to bother you

unless the two of you are sleeping in the same bed, shes going to leave you alone

and even then, being in the same bed doesnt mean all that much

you can ask her to talk about her dream, but shes going to gently reassure you that shes fine and theres nothing to worry about

with enough time to let her dreams wear her down, though, shes eventually going to spill to you

she doesnt exactly want comfort, she knows its not going to help all that much

so, offering a distraction may be best... you two typically end up staying in bed and just making small talk

OPENED

she doesnt do it maliciously, she doesnt even do it to try to win the argument... it just comes out, before she can stop the words from coming out but just because she didnt really mean to, it doesnt make the fact she hurt you any less apparent

she doesnt double down, instead she tries to backtrack- whatever the two of you were arguing about doesnt even mean anything to her anymore, she wants to undo what was done right now

she gives you time to collect yourself when it becomes clear that you need time, she gives one last "sorry" before giving you space

shes beside herself and shes disgusted with herself for using your insecurities and secrets against you in the argument, the moment you show some sign of being ready to talk shes going to let you know how horrible she feels for hurting you

she makes it clear that she didnt mean to hurt you, and shes going to do anything to prove that shes being honest

its going to take some time for the tenseness and awkwardness to fade away, but pomni is dedicated to making things work... though, thats not her call here is it?

[trippinsorrows]

dreamland: leya's struggles

authors note: this is super short and not anything major. literally wrote this in like half an hour. i could expound on it if people are interested. just wanted to give some insight to what it was like for roso and leya dealing with her ocd when she was younger.

only gonna tag a few people. if i end up expounding on it, i'll tag my usual "everyone" list.

words: 800

masterlist

warnings: angst, depiction of ocd in children

The sound of horns honking startles both Leya and Tama, the latter of which starts to stir in his car seat, single handedly exacerbating an already nightmare of a situation.

“Hurry up!”

It’s a single voice that’s followed up with several others, all expressing the same level of pressure and rudeness.

Solana is seconds away from marching over to the woman directly behind the suv behind her car when Tama’s soft, sleepy voice serves as a deterrent. “Mama, I wanna go home….”

A shared sentiment, one that makes most sense for him, as he’d either be back in bed by now or cuddled on the sofa with her while he takes a nap. 

Obviously, that’s not an option. 

“I know, baby,” she comforts. Solana does take a step back but instead of acting out of character, she directs her clear, unmistakable command to Jacob. “Shut them up.”

With a nod, Solana only catches his face shifting into that infamous scowl as he walks over to the cars lined up behind her, a line that has to be backed out into the street at this point.

With that handled, Solana moves back to the issue at hand. 

Leya continues to cry, sniffling as her little chest moves up and down. Solana can see the tips of her fingers turning red from the repeated, forceful buckling and unbuckling of her seatbelt.

“Leya….” Solana’s voice breaks. As best as she’s doing to maintain her composure, it’s a slowly losing battle. “Baby, it’s okay. We can g—”

“No!” Leya cries, shaking her head, still not looking at Solana as the concerned mother continues to gently stroke her hair. “I gotta—I gotta do it right, mommy, or something bad will happen!”

“Cataleya, I promise you nothing bad is going to happen, baby.” A reassuring statement she’s had to have stated at least ten times now over the past almost half hour that’s passed since the start of Leya’s episode. “But, you have to get out the ca—”

“No!” Leya begins to cry harder, once again going to remove her seatbelt, counting to three with her fingers before doing it all over again. A repeated, consistent, obsessive act that’s led to the situation they’re in now. A situation Solana has no idea how to handle. This is the first time it’s ever been this bad.

“What’s wrong, Leya?” Tama asks in his sweet voice, worry filling his little face as he tries to comfort her. Unfortunately, that only does the opposite. Leya cries out and jerks her body away, swatting his helping hand, prompting his bottom lip to poke out as he too starts to cry. 

“Leya, please don’t hit your brother.” It’s hard for Solana to be upset with or even scold her daughter, because she knows Leya can’t help it. Knows that it’s only because anyone else’s touch other than hers feels “wrong” to Leya, thus her reacting the way she did.  “Tama, it’s okay, baby boy. Leya just doesn’t feel good.” 

Solana is sure none of them are feeling good, especially herself, her hand moving to her small baby bump as a sudden wave of nausea washes over her.

God please, not right now.

Of all times, not now.

She just can’t handle this.

Solana moves to open the passenger door and reaches over to grab her cell phone out of the cupholder. Shaking, trembling hands move to Roman’s contact, as she too quickly hits the call button.

Three rings followed by a soft, feminime voice. “Mr. Reigns office, how can I—”

“Shit,” Solana curses and closes her eyes. She dialed his office number instead of his personal cell. “I’m sorry, Alicia, this is Solana. I need you to put me through with Roman.”

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Reigns,” she greets, voice kind but almost unsure. “Ummm—Mr. Reigns is in the middle of—”

“Alicia,” Solana doesn’t hesitate to interrupt. “Get my husband on this line now.”

The woman nervously clears her throat. “Of course.” A pause. “Just a minute.”

And it’s just about a full minute that passes when Solana hears her husband’s deep, baritone voice on the other end. “Solana? What’s wr—”

“I need you to meet me at the school,” she cuts in, emotion in her voice as her eyes start watering all over again. “I can’t—I can’t get Leya out the car. She’s—she’s stuck in a ritual, and I’ve got Tama, and he’s crying, and I can’t—I don’t know what to do.” Her voice breaks at the end, the overwhelming nature of it all finally trampling her

“Mommy, don’t cry,” Tama comforts, eyes focused on Solana from the backseat.

Solana is unsure if Roman can hear their five-year-old, because he’s doing the same, “baby, don’t cry. It’s okay.” It provides some solace but not as much as Solana knowing how to help her daughter could provide. “I’m on my way.”

[venus-celestial]

Acosf au where instead of the bullshit "intervention" after Feyre learns of what's happening with her sister

She goes to Nesta's apartment with tea sits down with her and has an actual conversation

(This is going to be multiple parts because oh boy this was a big idea also part 2 is now available here)

They talk about their traumas and Feyre learns a short list of things about her sister that she feels need immediate attention

1. She's batshit terrified of fires

2. She's batshit terrified of being submerged in water

3. She doesn't eat enough

4. She's touched Strived and flinches away from physical contact

5. Whatever power she got from the cauldron is too much for her body and hurts her

6. Nesta does not feel safe and is constantly in fight or flight mode

7. She has almost constant nightmares

8. She's underweight and Feyre thinks something as simple as a cold could legitimately kill her at the moment

9. She doesn't feel comfortable in her own body and genuinely just doesn't like herself

10. She genuinely doesn't want to live and doesn't even know why she's still alive

Feyre takes a deep breath to collect herself after their conversation uses her daemati abilities to send as much care as she can towards Nesta tells her she she loves her more then she can imagine and she'll be back tomorrow

She goes back to the river house and goes straight to her study to plan she writes down the list she made mentally and shorts the items into what she can start working on immediately and what will take some time

She has ultimately decided Nesta's Nightmares Her heath/eating situation And Her current living situation (Her apartment was freezing how had she not died or gotten sick) needed immediate attention while also looking for a while to make her power not hurt her

When Rhysand comes into her study as it's time for dinner and she hadn't said anything since coming back he looks at the papers on her desk and asks about them

She tells him that it's plans regarding Nesta and he tells her that he has a solution Feyre raises an eyebrow and tells her about the house of wind and training plan

And Feyre shuts it immediately as soon as the words training and house of wind come out of his mouth she immediately shuts it down

She tells him she will not be putting her sister in a house she can't leave 10 thousand steps in the air where

1. she could easily jump off

2. Be completely isolated from anyone and anything

3. Be trapped alone with 1 two males 2 Two males she doesn't even trust

And She will not make her sister train because 1 her body looks like it could shatter from light wind 2 the misogyny that runs rabid in the village and 3 her mind needs to feel safe and training like an warrior will not give her that

And frankly she just won't send her sister to a place where so many males act so disgusting towards females (and yes Rhys we will have words about that later) even with Az and Cassian there

She tells Rhys that this situation needs to be handled with the utmost care and she has a plan and she will handle it

They go to dinner with the rest of the inner circle and It's Mor who asks what they plan to do about Nesta Rhys goes to speak but Feyre is faster and informs everyone that she has it handled

Cassian asks her what she plans to do and Feyre says that it's private and again she has had it handled so trust her and let her help her sister

The next day Feyre is up nice and early she has a list of things to get before going over to Nesta's first she goes to the infirmary building to talk to the healers about tonics for nightmares and to make eating easier

The healers recommended her two tonics one for the nightmares that Also makes it so the person sleeps through the night and one for eating that you take before meals to make it easier to digest and helps retain weight for longer periods

She purchases a Months supply of both and has them sent to Nesta's apartment She next goes to a linen store and purchases some big fluffy blankets then while looking around finds a section of blankets that are heated by Autumn Court Magic

She asks about them and then asks if it's possible to heat a whole house the same way the fae running the store says might be possible and to ask an autumn court friend Feyre buys two of the heated blankets and makes a note ask Lucian About it later

Then she goes to do general shopping for food and things like shampoo and conditioner afterwards she goes to a Cafe and orders 2 of their breakfasts and a couple other treats and then heads off to her sister's apartment

[triptanite]

Dear Gortash

This one shot is based on the dialogue option that Karlach has when interacting with the ornate mirror!

Option 3: I'd see the Hells filled with flowers, and my old boss Gortash on his hands and knees tending them for eternity.

the companion crew and co all need a shitload of whatever the faerun version of therapy is after saving the world and everything. this is how I imagine Karlach might find a bit of healing within herself

being real, it is a real therapeutic activity to write letters and the like to yourself or others and then to destroy it in some way afterwards. this can be good for venting, or cathartic when you dispose of it afterwards (e.g., ripping, shredding). so if you're feeling a little pent up and need something physical to do, there's an idea for you!

Pairing/s: none

Content warning/s: none

MASTERLIST

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

I didn't have an answer for her then, but I think I would now.

Sometimes, in my dreams, I see you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Gortash.

The crew and I are sorting ourselves out now that the dust has settled a bit. We're rebuilding things, healing and all that. We also get drunk under the stars and eat our weight in stew but I think that's also helping.

Some of us are working on things like forgiveness, and guilt. Some of us are training, socialising, moving on. All of us are grieving.

I struggled for a bit, thinking of a way to find my closure. I lost so much of my life. I was punished so deeply for a crime I never committed. I was put through the ringer, ripped out, and ran through again. One of my friends suggested that I write you a letter, and I won't lie, I laughed. A letter? What the Hells will that do?

But still, I kept it in the back of my mind. I think it's just in my nature to trust the people I care about. I carried a sheet of parchment and a quill in my pack with me for two weeks straight. Except every time I tried, I had nothing to say.

Then I went to visit my parents. I clean their gravestones and sweep away fallen leaves as often as I can make it. I tell them about my adventures, my health, everything really. I tell them about my nightmares, and my daydreams. There's a merchant at the cemetery who sells flowers out of a tiny cart. She's a widower. I pay her thrice her asking price for blooms to decorate my folks place, and ask her about her day. She was telling me about how she still talks to her husband sometimes, when she sleeps. She knows he's gone, but it brings her peace. She asked me about my dreams, and about my peace. I didn't have an answer for her then, but I think I would now.

Sometimes, in my dreams, I see you.

You're dressed plainly, not an adornment in sight. You're crouched low in the soil, joints aching, hands calloused. The knees of your peasant pants are permanently dust-stained, and there is dirt under your fingernails that you'll never get out.

You water an endless field of flowers of every variety gently, there is no other way you are able to do it. There is no company. No conversation. Just a gentle wind meant to carry the pollen of infinite blooms to each other. Light beams down onto you. You've developed deep crows feet from squinting when you look up to note it's movement - the artificial sun is the only way you can track the time here.

You are quiet. Frowning. You're too exhausted to rage anymore. You tend to the flowers, a stark and lovely contrast to the hells that lie just beyond the field. You can never reach the edge, you can never crush the flowers. They simply spring back when stepped on, they simply regrow when ripped out.

You would have spent the first few weeks screaming, ripping roots out of the ground, scheming, plotting, swearing. What else would you have done? But over time, you began to resign yourself to your situation. I hope you find comfort that you're not the only one who knows how that feels.

Far away from the world's living and dead, unable to destroy or devise, this is where you'll stay. You can't sweet-talk the flowers, you can't take advantage of the wind's trust. You cannot leave and you cannot die. You will never hurt me again.

And over time, these dreams will fade with the nights. I replace them with my friends and family. I'll close my eyes and think about meals in the moonlight, about playing with dogs and cats and owlbears, or about nothing at all. I think more about myself now. About what I want to do with every day that I have. I learned to make mince pies, I admire the setting sun. I make more friends. I treat myself. I deserve that. I saved the fucking world. I saved my fucking self.

When I think of you, tending to a field of flowers in the Hells forever, I feel relieved.

One day, I won't think of you at all.

And that makes me smile.

Bye forever, pal.

Karlach.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

my sweet gal Karlach deserves all this and more

ty for the love and kind words/tags on some of my works!!! It's seriously so encouraging to know that actual people like what I do!

as I said in my intro I'm pretty inclined to do bittersweet, wordy pieces so I think you can definitely see that across my works so far

anyway thanks again!! :3

1144pm 3/6/24 1252 4/6/24

[dingoat]

For BEST GIRL: desire, future, ghost, hate, mask, nightmare, secret, skin, torture. 8)

FINALLY getting around to finishing this batch of asks from this very fun set of questions! And AS YOU KNOW the best girl has been through SOME THINGS. A LOT of things. >.>

desire: What’s one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

In a word: freedom. Ahuska is so so tired of having to hide, of being hunted, of being a danger to innocent people. She wants the freedom to live, and love, open and carefree and unburdened. She wants the control phrase conditioning out of her head. She wants to undo whatever it is that makes her tear Force Sensitives limb from limb. She wants to exist, openly, with rights, without a bounty on her wolf's pelt. She wants to stop hearing 'we can't, you can't, it's not safe for you'. And she is completely open with this, her driving force in life for some time now, and she will do almost anything to fulfil this desire. She might even fully embrace learning to use the Force, now that someone's put the idea into her head that it might be the one way she'll have to earn an unchallenged place in the galaxy.

future: What’s the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it’s a possibility?

Probably to wind up back in a cage, broken and under external control, used as a tool to destroy everyone she loves. She's acutely aware of how real a possibility this is and is incredibly driven to avoid this outcome. (Five has no idea how lucky he is that some very good people are quite fond of him, or Ahuska might not have been able to resist the temptation to hunt him down and remove him from the equation, which would substantially reduce the risk of anyone using her control phrase against her.)

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

The people she's killed, for sure, especially as more and more memories of her early werewolfy days as an Imperial tool become open to her. These ghosts, she lives with by reminding herself that she had no choice, she had no ability to consciously stop herself, and of course by doing everything she can to avoid winding up in that situation again. The nights she's slipped up despite finally knowing what she's capable are much harder for her to deal with.

She's also definitely haunted by the knowledge that her monstrous form was one of Blakk's nightmares, and possibly still is. She still hasn't found a way to properly deal with this yet, and might not until they can finally have an actual conversation again.

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

Before she became close to Thirteen, it was very very easy to hate Five in a very pure and righteous way. For what he did to her, for the way he treated Blakk, for his casual cruelties and despicable, high-born Imperial attitudes. She still does not understand at all how anybody could ever be fond of such a person, but she's not actively targeting him for a future murder any more which is a pretty big deal.

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

Ahuska wears a lot of masks, largely as a matter of self preservation. A very common one is the 'I'm fine' mask that she's learned to wear around little stuck-as-a-fox Blakk, because it breaks her heart to see him feeling any sort of guilt about their situation. I think she and Thirteen are currently sharing a mask that's telling the world 'we're brilliant, actually, very put-together and also extremely sexy and talented', which is quite actively preventing them both from experiencing their own private catastrophic depressed meltdowns. It's a super healthy coping strategy that won't at all end in heartbreak. And of course, in her day to day, out in public life, there's the mask she wears to give the impression that she's a simple, unremarkable, absolutely-not-a-werewolf-or-fugitive little Bothan, just going about her day with no troubles or lofty aspirations. It's tiring, though, and being a hermit is far far easier.

The fact that she's currently quite intimately bonded to Thirteen means that he's actually the most likely to glimpse who she really is under all the masks; how broken and frightened she is. He's definitely been the only person so far to demonstrate a real understanding of who she is and what she wants in life, and the wild but intensely caring duality of her nature.

The Jedi on Tython who have been helping her are also committed to peeling back the protective layers she's built around herself and helping her discover and come to terms with the pieces she denies and ignores; they have seen more of her than most.

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

Ahuska has nightmares about being caged. About suffocating walls closing in on her, about heavy chains wearing her down, about heavy boots resting on top of her head. She has nightmares about a seductive hand brushing along the length of her leg, luring her into the cell from which there's no escape. She keeps these nightmares very much to herself, and doesn't know what else to do but try and push them from her mind, bite back the tears, and desperately hope they won't return when she closes her eyes again.

secret: What’s one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

I don't think she ever wants to let on just how tempted she is by the idea of just running away with Thirteen and never facing reality again. It's a fantasy, and she knows it, but gods if he were to actually suggest the idea out loud, she's not sure she could resist.

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

Ahuska has gone through the full range of emotions, from absolute loathing to complete adoration of her inner wolf. Ultimately she loves her wild self and lives for the day she can exist freely and openly in whatever shape she feels like wearing in the moment.

Knowing that the Force is something she's privy to and has the capacity to wield has taken a lot longer to come to terms with; after a long period of denial and disgust with herself, absolute anxiety and mistrust of learning, she finally reached a stage of cautious acceptance that was workable... and now, finds herself on the verge of embracing it in full.

The weakest and most miserable version of herself? When she was completely broken, had lost all faith in herself, and handed over complete control of her thoughts and actions to the worst person she'd ever met? Oh, it kills her to know that she can be brought so low, and to acknowledge it is to bring herself to tears. To shivering, shaking, ugly crying. She hasn't yet found a way to properly reconcile this part of her.

torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?

Oh, yes. She was subject to some very nasty treatment at Five's hands. Frequent pain, starvation, denial of basic needs, basic comforts, any form of privacy or dignity... and, having suffered so, she has absolutely no desire to inflict the same on any other being. She is, deep down, committed to the idea of being a force for good in the galaxy- and not wanting to be anything like Five is a pretty solid motivation to steer her in that direction, as well.

[somecallmejohn]

sleepy rose oneshot ideas (like after they confessed)

1.Simon sleeping but every time Asha is nearby, he would unconsciously move closer/cuddle to Asha

2.Simon having nightmares of killing Asha, has a panic attack, Asha calms him down, sleeping together

3.Simon got drunk, unwittingly flirts with Asha with the cheesiest pickup lines

4.Simon being overprotective of Asha and she gradually gets tired of it

can you write them all? I’m ok if you do it one by one. tho if not, what do you think? Good?

Okee... I really like those ideas even as headcanons, but I am gonna try and write just one of them (for now prolly).

I'm more of an illustrator than a writer, but again if I really want to write that queer Disney-esque fairy tale I've been thinking about for a long while, I will hve to practice my writing skills somehow.

Imma go with the second prompt since it's one I've actually thought about before as it is a headcanon of mine that Simon has some trauma from his brief time being brainwashed by Magnifico.

Anyway, enough yapping. It's time for some cringe writing from a wannabe writer.

(P.S. I altered the situation a bit to take place 2 or 3 months after the events of the movie and before Asha and Simon got together.)

(Post-writing note: this took longer than expected and I ended up writing more than I was planning. I also ended up using some headcanons I've shared in asks and sleepy rose headcanon post, which was kinda fun. Anyways hope you like it!)

It was dark and quiet in the deep woods, where only the snapping of twigs and the sprinting steps of a teenage girl could be heard.

Those stepping sounds belonged to Asha, a girl who had just recently found herself wanted for treason against the kingdom of Rosas. And all that for what? Because she believed that everyone deserved to own their wish and have the chance to chase it and make it a reality.

Asha was running as fast as she could. She didn't even dare to look behind her. But alas, all that running was for nothing as she found herself at a dead end. She tried to look for another exit, but it was already too late, for she could see in the shadows the glowing green eyes of the person chasing after her.

Out of the shadows emerged Simon, but no... This wasn't Simon... not anymore, at least. This was the King's loyal knight, his only knight that was a real human being and not an enchanted armor. Aquired by tricking a teenager so desperate to get the missing piece of himself back that he ended up bertraying the person he cared about the most.

"Oh, Asha..." The knight said with a voice that sounded familiar yet completely foreign to her ears as he was heading towards her."The King is waiting for you. It's a shame to leave him waiting, don't you think?"

His eyes were fixated on her and a menacing yet simultaneously apathetic expression was formed on his face.

"Simon, please, this isn't you!" Asha cried."You're under Magnifico's spell! I saw it! Once he put you in this armor, you've not been yourself ever since!"

He was getting nearer and nearer. Almost everything about him was unrecognizable. His posture, the way he moved, his expression even the way he was dressed.

"But, this is me, you see. Magnifico helped me make my wish come true and he could have done the same to you had you been loyal to Rosas."

At that point, he was just a breath away, towering over her.

"Come on Asha, just tell me where the star is and I promise you Magnifico will forgive you and reward you accordingly. You can have the life many dream of and..."

He took hold of her hand and his expression softened a little. It was as if the real Simon was talking now.

"We could be together at last."

Asha's cheeks flushed. She's had feelings for Simon for longer than she can remember and hoped he'd reciprocate them, but this was not the Simon she loved and this was not a deal she was willing to take.

"No! Never!" She exclaimed, pushing him away and attempting to run as far as she could, but she wasn't fast enough and he caught her by the hand almost instantly.

Everything went pitch black.

"I'm sorry it has come to this way, Asha" the knight said right before the sound of a sword being taken out of its case was heard.

"NO!" Simon exclaimed, waking up in cold sweat.

It was that nightmare again.

He was back at the royal kitchen. Everyone was looking at him. He had fallen asleep laying against the wall yet again.

His face went scarlet red seeing everyone's gaze pinned upon him, especially when he saw Asha's concerned expression.

"I-i..." he struggled to think of some excuse "forgot to bring some flour bags."

He then swiftly left the room to get to the pantry for more flour bags despite the kitchen having already a whole pile of them with enough flour to service them for at least a week.

It's been only a couple months since the redheaded teen had been brainwashed to be used as a pawn in the former King's scheme to capture Asha and Star and although it hardly lasted a day, the effects of that brief time were here to stay.

Every time Simon closed his eyes to sleep, the same type of nightmare would be playing in his head. He'd be in the woods with no control of his body or mind, dressed in the armor Magnifico put him in, chasing after Asha and it'd always end with her captured or something worse.

At first, this nightmare would only play at night. Despite his extreme need for sleep, Simon would keep himself awake at night by training for the upcoming Knight tryouts Queen Amaya had announced, to replace the enchanted armors that had lost any magic in them after Magnifico's defeat, and would take nap breaks during the daytime.

This plan had worked for a couple of days before the nightmares returned. He could no longer escape them and that took a toll on him. He got a lot more tired, failed the tryouts and gave up on his wish of being a noble knight.

With the repeating nightmares reminding him of what he did, he even distanced himself from his friends. He couldn't stand being around the same people he had let down, especially Asha, who he so selfishly betrayed.

Simon stayed in the pantry for a few minutes pretending he was looking for the right flour bags to bring back in the kitchen only for him to instantly fall asleep on a pile nearby.

He was back in the woods, dressed in his knightly attire, chasing after Asha. But, at the moment he was about to draw his sword, something different happened. He felt in control again and let go of it before he... woke up.

When he opened his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of Asha nudging him and asking him to wake up.

"Hmph... Asha?" he said groggily.

"Simon... are you alright?" she asked concerned.

But Asha entered his way placing her hand on his chest to stop him.

"Oh! I-i..." he exclaimed and with a forced smile, trying to sound as upbeat and awake as he could, he said,"Yeah, I'm doing great! Just... looking for the right flour bags." he added a fake chuckle as he stood up and grabbed the first two bags he saw before he proceeded to leave.

"Simon..." she repeated compassionately "you've been acting very strangely lately. You're as tired as ever, even more than you were when you gave your wish away to Magnifico, you've been avoiding us and Queen Amaya even told me that you refused her offer for a second chance at the knight tryouts. I thought being a knight was your wish. Why did you give up on that Simon?"

"I-i just ended up changing my mind." he mumbled struggling to wake up fully "Sometimes wishes change and that's what happened with mine."

"I don't believe that. Your wish was so strong you weren't the same without it, you can't have changed it so quickly!"

"Well, I have!" he said coldly and left with no further explanation.

Later that day, just when the sun had begun to set, somewhere deep in the woods at a spot near a lake, there was the redheaded teen who had just dismounted his horse.

His horse wasn't exactly his perse. It belonged to the royal mews, but Simon had nurtured and taken care of it ever since it was just a foal with the help of his father, who worked there. He'd often take it for a ride from time to time with permission from the queen.

Simon loved horse riding. It was his favorite pastime before he'd given his wish to Magnifico and he still loved it after taking it back. It was the only thing that could clear his mind whenever he felt overwhelmed after a day full of tiny nap breaks and the same nightmare playing in his head again and again.

As he let the horse go drink some water from the lake, Simon sat down under the nearest tree and took out his favorite book to read, it was a fairytale book his mother would read to him every night to sleep. He loved the stories about brave knights saving the maidens and he aspired to be just like them. Even if he had given up on his wish, he could still live through his favorite stories, or at least so he said to himself.

Just as he was about to begin reading, he heard stepping noises approaching him.

"Simon?" a familiar voice sounded

"Asha?" he said, surprised to see her "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you. You have no idea how worried I and our other friends are about you"

"But, how did you find me?" he asked

"We used to come over here a lot as kids, don't you remember?"

"Oh..." he said, his cheeks turning red "I forgot about that."

"You always loved how quiet it was here." she smiled as she sat next to him "Now tell me. What is going on with you?"

"I told you it was nothing" he said defensively

"Simon..." she placed her hand on his and looked him straight in the eyes "please."

He couldn't help it any longer. It pained him being so secretive and avoiding her and his friends. He wanted it to stop. He wanted the nightmares and the guilt to leave him alone. And he confessed everything about the nightmares and how they've been haunting him for the last few months.

"But Simon, I forgive you" she told him, setting her hand on his shoulder.

"But I don't deserve it!" he cried, tears beginning to form under his eyes. "You trusted me and I betrayed you!"

"And you regretted that and apologized for it and I forgave you. What more is there?"

"I-i don't know... I don't think I deserve to be your friend." he'd finally confessed, looking at the other way.

"Maybe the problem is that you haven't forgiven yourself yet." she suggested, setting her gaze elsewhere as well.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you're so hard on yourself for that mistake you did that even Gabo is concerned about what's going on with you."

"And what if I do "forgive myself" and the nightmares are still in my head? What do I do then?"

"I don't know, but..." she placed her hand on his again and set the other on his cheek to turn his gaze back to her."I'll be here for you"

The two teens kept staring at each other's eyes until Asha's gaze turned to the book Simon was holding.

"What are you reading?" She asked, curiosity filling her eyes.

"Just some fairytales"

"W-would you mind reading them aloud so that I can hear?"

"Sure!"

And so Simon began reading one of his favorite stories as Asha scooched in closer to him.

It didn't take long for the young sleep deprived man to fall asleep once again.

The nightmare played the same way as it always did, but for the second time that day around the end of it, he'd find himself in control again and this time he'd warn Asha about Magnifico's plan and help her go to the castle fast and stop him.

Simon woke up and next to him, Asha was still there and had also fallen asleep next to him with her head resting on his shoulder. The sky had darkened and the moon was up. The horse had even bent down and proceeded to sleep as well.

Simon eventually explained to his other friends about the nightmares and decided to accept the queen's second chance offer and begun training for the next tryouts. He even started taking Asha with him on horse riding sessions and stop by the same spot they fell asleep at where they'd sit to read other stories from the book and take small quick naps together, but this time they'd be home at their time or a little later than that.

He'd thought of waking her up, but ultimately, he ended up going back to sleep next to her. For the first time in a long while there was no nightmare playing in his head.

They stayed there for the remainder of the night and the morning when they returned home needless to say that neither Simon's parents nor Asha's mother were happy about what had happened, but for the two teens it was all worth it in the end, even if he got in trouble at the castle for the horse's longer than expected absence.

The nightmares didn't leave for a while. They came and went, making sleeping hard for Simon, but as time progressed and he began focusing more on his future than his past, they began to fade away until they were gone for good and never returned.