#yes I’m a little bit devastated that it would be even more difficult for me to visit a fictional planet

[theshadowrealmitself]

Cause of my inhaler I’ve been thinking more and more about the stress living on Vulcan would cause the Human body

And do you think the tri-ox compound can be used daily? Or do you think maybe Humans like Amanda who live on Vulcan had to have days where they hang out in like. an artificial biome that has the same oxygen levels as on earth?

Also do you think inhalers are still used or would tri-ox compound hypos be used in its place? And what if you have asthma and are on Vulcan?

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#8: The Last Letter (1.01)

gif cred: @vidco

Rick's 'last' letter to Michonne made my heart break into a million pieces. It was beautiful and devastating and also a major testament to the way Richonne’s love was the pulse of Rick’s life and without Michonne, that pulse essentially came to a stop 😢...

But backtracking a bit, after that powerfully acted scene between Rick and Okafor, Rick sits alone in his apartment with a drink as he stares out the window and again looks like he loathes the window's constant reminder that he’s stuck far from home.

I just know whenever Rick comes back to that cold bare apartment he would so rather come home to a home with toys on the ground, paintings on the fridge, his wife’s cat statue on the mantle - any signs that his home is the home of his family. The apartment reflects his emptiness and it’s clear he resents being here stripped of being a husband and father which is what he loved being more than anything.

This scene also always makes me think perhaps on this very night, an adorable little boy with Rick’s good kind heart is sitting at a dinner table asking the love of Rick’s life for more tomatoes, while Rick is forced to sit in this apartment alone, looking fine and depressed with just a drink to nurse his woes. He should be at those family dinners right now with Michonne, RJ, and Judith. The CRM has to burn for taking this from him. 😞

Rick, clearly a little buzzed from his drink is about to get up when Pearl urgently enters. And she enters without knocking to which I was like Thorne, ma'am…

She tells Rick to turn on the TV and they see that Omaha has been destroyed. Pearl is understandably overcome by this news.

She then expresses a lot of belief in the CRM and their secrets and how the CRM is the answer to creating a future and Rick looks up at her sorta just checked out. You can tell it's difficult for him to be present at this moment after his whole hope of going home has been completely crushed by the previous Okafor exchange.

gif cred: @clonecaptains

Pearl gives him more info about the little girl that he saved and then she says, “You and me and that girl…we all want to be somewhere else with someone else” and Rick again has a quiet emotional reaction as he turns away from her with tears in his eyes. Bringing up Michonne & Judith with these CRM people is always a sensitive thing for him.

Pearl adds, “But we got stuck in the right place” and Rick doesn’t look at her but tilts his head and reacts like he clearly disagrees with that assessment. If this place doesn’t have Michonne and Judith it can never be the right place. 

She then says Rick is gonna see that this was for the best someday and she says she’s not sorry she stopped him, stating, “I’m not sorry I saved your life, even when you didn’t want it to be saved.”

gif cred: @twdfranchise

And the way Rick looks at her. He has this weary smile as he lets her know point blank, “You didn’t save my life.” First, he’s like don’t be taking credit for Michonne’s work lol. Michonne truly saved his life and every one of his kids' lives. She's the one who brought Rick back time and time again. 

Also I think Rick feels like if I can’t go home then I don’t have a life to live really, let alone a life to save.

gif cred: @twdfranchise

It seems the way Rick sees it, Pearl just helped play a part in keeping him stuck here permanently.

And it’s super interesting how he delivers all this with a drained smile because I think he knows what he’s contemplating right now and is pretty resolved to go through with it. Almost like he’s coming to terms with the fact that he doesn’t plan on living much longer so Pearl didn’t save his life because he’s seriously considering taking it after enduring such painful hopeless circumstances.

But Pearl begs to differ saying, “Yes I did.” She takes a sip of Rick’s drink without asking and then breaks the glass on his floor which again…imma need her to chill throwing glasses around Rick. Idc if it’s your schtick, Pearl, it’s a hazard.

gif cred: @twdfranchise

Before leaving Pearl says, “At least there’s one more good man in the world, hmm? One more good man to try and save the world…whether he wants to or not.” This was Rick getting yet another reminder that even though he doesn't want power, power wants him.

gif cred: @twdfranchise

Pearl leaves and we’re brought back to the teaser moment as Rick sits alone and nears ending it all by his own hand. Which I’ve discussed this scene in the first TOWL post, but just to add - now knowing the exact circumstances that led him to this point, when he looks out the window and at the drawing of Michonne it just feels like he’s thinking 'I really won’t ever see her again outside of these sketches.' 🥺

Like he had probably fought so hard to never even entertain the idea of not seeing Michonne again because, like his wife, he too tries to not fantasize about failing. But now, that very possible reality of never seeing her again has sunk in and it's killing him.

gif cred: @vidco

And as he stares out the window at the view of the city that he hates, he seems to be accepting that this might be the last view he has.

This city that’s supposed to promise its residents a new life is the very reason Rick wants to take his. 😞

With the glass shard from the cup Pearl threw placed to his neck, Rick then has flashes of memories from his childhood home burning and, while we don’t know it at this time, it becomes clear these memories popped into his head at this moment because it’s a reminder of the sacrifice his dad made for their family.

And now Rick is going to make the ultimate sacrifice for his family. Deciding to stay alive to save the world for his girls all while feeling dead inside without them.

source: myobsessionsspace

So then begins Rick’s last soul-crushing letter to Michonne. 💔

The scene cuts to Rick waking up alone in bed for his first official day as the walking dead. It says a lot about Rick’s resilience that it took five years before he ever became this broken.

But he’s only human and can only take so much (especially without the family that fuels him) and so now he’s arrived at what he believes is the point of no return, no returning home that is. And as he wakes in this bed, you just know he’d give anything to return to the mornings when he’d wake up to his arms wrapped around Michonne. 

Rick says, “I thought about ending it. Just stopping it all.” And I think it’s moving how he even wanted Michonne to know the darkest places he went to. Like she gets access to even his suicidal thoughts. He says, “But then…then it would all just be for nothing, wouldn’t it?” I like that he poses it as a question, even if rhetorical. He knows Michonne would say the answer is yes and would be so glad he didn’t go through with it.

gif cred: @nobleriver

Also, the survivor and protector in him wouldn’t let him go through with it because if he can in someway still save his girls from afar he’s going to try.

He says, “All of it for nothing. I couldn’t do it” and Rick’s face and the vulnerable delivery and breathing within this letter is so well executed and just makes my heart ache.

We see him writing the letter and I really like the detail of him having a ton of pages ripped out of the notebook. It goes to show he’s been writing a whole bunch to Michonne over the years. 

Then we enter the depths of despair with Rick as he says, “But I still decided to die. I’ve been writing you letters the whole time. Reaching out to feel something. Writing just to imagine you could read them.” Ok I’m crying. 😭 Like that’s so beautiful and painful and I appreciate that Rick is so aware that connecting with Michonne in any way possible is the only way he can feel alive here.

gif cred: @taiturner

Seeing him write in that chair with his hand missing, just knowing he’s been through so much hardship and pain alone...y’all it’s too much. 😭 

When Rick says, “This is my last one, the last letter I write to you that you’ll never see” the first time I heard it and every time after my heart just drops. I was shattered because this was him feeling forced to close the door on her and him in a way I’d never want to see. 🥺 Had me fully like...

After that Okafor exchange, Rick has finally accepted that all his hope of telling Michonne all this in person one day might be futile.

It’s also very poignant to have this letter occur over a montage of Rick restoring an office and moving up the ranks. As he declutters the conference room and becomes more involved in the CRM machine, he’s building things for them and bringing their vision to life while he himself dies inside. It’s a tragic and impactful contrast. 

Then Rick says what he’ll say a total of three times throughout this one letter - “I love you.” 🥺

I adore hearing him tell her 'I love you,' especially while under these sorrowful circumstances. He says it so certain, like it’s something he knows will never change nor fade even if he has to be dead now and give up on seeing her.

gif cred: @candiedblue

Something I’ve said in many of my posts is all versions of Rick love Michonne. It’s just the truth. And even Dead Rick - the Rick who has had to shut himself off and feel nothing to survive as the walking dead - even he still loves Michonne. In fact, it’s like now all he is is love for her and their daughter and there’s no other part of his humanity he entertains or recognizes anymore. 

By saying 'I love you' at this moment it’s him saying even tho this is the last letter, it’s not at all because he doesn’t love her. In actuality, it’s the last letter because he loves her so passionately that if he doesn’t kill the parts of himself that long to escape and be with her then he knows he’ll always try to get to her and he believes that will only put her in danger. So in a way, like Okafor, he too had to kill the idea of being with his wife. But even so, he still wants Michonne to know over and over that he still loves her. 

Rick says, “I don’t see the dead anymore or the ones I lost.” This will come into play big time in the immaculate fourth episode. And it’s such a traumatizing thing to realize you don’t see anyone you love anymore. That would make you lose yourself entirely. 😞 So Rick's super forlorn, I'm super verklempt, it's a lot. And the letter only grows more devastating as it goes on.

The most painful part of this letter for me is when Rick devastatingly says he also doesn’t see the sun, the sky, or the water and “I don’t see you anymore.” 😭😭😭😭

The way he says that. 😥 The way his voice breaks just a bit saying 'anymore,' knowing that it was seeing Michonne that was keeping him going before this. 🥺

So many of us have always said that when Rick looks at Michonne he sees the sun, the moon, and the stars, and his whole universe. And sure enough, Rick confirms that here by saying if he can’t see her anymore he literally can’t see anything anymore - no sunlight to lead the way, no sky to reach new horizons, no water to cleanse the pain.

He can’t see any of those things in nature because it was Michonne who lit his path like the sun, who made him rise up higher than the sky, who washed away his fears and pain and replaced it with hope and joy. Their love was an electrifying life source and without her, he can't live and the whole world goes dark.

And I firmly believe that this is such an accurate in-character response from Rick. Like this isn’t something he’s saying because TOWL is an epic love story so they have to dramatically play up their romance and yearning - no this is truly how deep Richonne’s love goes and has always gone, to the point that Rick could see his entire world fade to black without the hope of having her in it. 

gif cred: @perryabbott

Rick says, “I just see what’s ahead” and when his voice breaks as he says this it feels like his heart is breaking finally accepting that being with her is no longer what’s ahead. Now what’s ahead is far more cold and bleak as he says, “metal rotors, and gun oil and blood.” The beauty of nature replaced with the dark lifeless things of this apocalypse.

It’s interesting because you’d think when the world ended and turned into an apocalypse all those years ago, that’s when all you’d see ahead is blood and guns. But Richonne and their family managed to carve out such a beautiful life that it wasn’t until Rick lost them that he stopped seeing the good and beauty in the apocalyptic world.

And my heart melts over how this implies that part of why Rick could still see the sun, sky, water, and beauty in the world all those years ago was because he was with Michonne. 

Rick goes on saying that all he sees is “What I have to do, what I can do to help save the world even if you never know I did that.” An ultimate act of sacrifice.

And then the greatest loverboy to ever walk the earth says, “I love you so much. I love you so so much.” And what I love so so much is the way he has to tell her this and emphasize it. 😭 Like you can just feel that as Rick writes this last letter he’s still so overcome with love for her and all he wants is to let Michonne know she still has his entire heart. Even the dead version of his heart is hers.

I'll forever adore hearing this. It made me think about how we went from being so eager to hear Rick say I love you just once in TWD to now hearing him say it three times in one letter in the first ep of this miniseries. TOWL is a blessing in every way. And the way he repeats it in this letter it really feels like he could say 'i love you' 100 times and he wouldn’t feel like it was enough to convey all the love he has for her.

Rick burns the phones and letters as he tells Michonne he loves her so much. And seeing him burn those, I was like...

One; I wanted Rick to still be able to keep those phones just to have some bit of his girls with him. And two; I was like Rick, your wife is on her way to save you and I want her to have the chance to read all your letters like you hoped she would. Like I really wanted Michonne to be able to read those letters one day - especially because, while she'll later say it in a moment of tension, Rick really is a great writer. 😊

This last letter right here would have Shakespeare applauding Rick. Even tho maybe it's good Michonne never got this letter because it would be absolutely heartbreaking for her to read. But I just love that Rick earnestly and honestly pours his heart out to Michonne so romantically in words. This was yearning at its strongest.

But Rick burns these items because he believes he has to burn this hope of being with them for their sake. Plus, these phones and letters are essentially what got him “caught” by Okafor in a way so he’s getting rid of the rest to not risk any more exposure again. But also, these phones are what got Michonne to realize Rick is alive so they did more good than damage.

gif cred: @nerd4music

As he burns the phones and letters it’s Rick following his dad and grandpa's footsteps and adopting the mindset that sometimes it's for the best to die and live and it’s an act of protection to let things burn, no matter how painful the sacrifice. And honestly, this is a huge act of love from Rick because he’s literally dying for his wife and daughter. Ending his life to save theirs - something he's always been willing to do as evidenced by the bridge sacrifice.

And as fire is one of the most prominent motifs in TOWL, I really like the theme of it for its duality. Fire both cleanses and destroys and Rick will wrestle with figuring out which one he does on this TOWL journey.

The most heartbreaking letter in history then concludes with Rick saying, “I tried. Please just know I tried.” as he stares into the fire, watching the flames burn away the last few parts of the Rick he once knew.

He so longs for Michonne to know just two things: 1) he loves her with everything in him and 2) he tried as hard as he could for her.

But as hard as he tried, things just haven’t worked out so he ends the letter saying one more time in a broken whisper “I tried…but I failed.” And well if TOWL wanted to shatter my heart then mission accomplished because this letter never fails to break me. By the end of this letter Rick and I were in the same boat because I was watching like...

It’s hard enough to know Rick decided to die while still alive. Like that’s such a painful choice. Especially because choosing to die is different than choosing to become numb imo. You can still technically 'feel' numbness, but when you decide to live but die, you stop feeling anything, not even numbness. You shut off your humanness just to get through the pain.

And since our humanness switch is never meant to be turned off it’s no easy feat to turn it back on. Speaking from experience, once you shut off that switch, sure you stop feeling the pain but you stop feeling everything else too and it takes time and a lot of love to turn it back on. Like even love almost becomes a 'concept' more than a feeling because you're so alienated from having love in your life.

Fortunately, the woman who loves Rick more than he’s ever been loved is on her way to love him back to life. And thank goodness, because Rick needs Michonne desperately.

But then on top of all this, the aspect that makes this last line of the letter so heartrending is Rick didn’t just die but feels he died a failure.

Every day that Rick struggled to break free and had to live knowing his wife and daughter were out there and he couldn’t hold them, protect them, or love them added such a painful layer to his sense of failure. And it’s heartbreaking to hear his final letter conclude not by saying he tried but just couldn’t escape the oppressive CRM, but rather “I tried, but I failed.” It gives us insight into how much Rick’s mindset is that he is the cause of the failure.

He thinks this is on him and feels he’s let them down. He didn’t just ‘die’ disappointed, he thinks he ‘died’ a failure even despite really being a victim of his circumstances. And when I tell you that breaks my heart. It really really does. 💔

And now Rick just has to live dead and thinking he fell short of the one thing he thought he’d never fall short of which is finding his way back to his family.

That has to change him on a foundational level -thinking he’s failed and let his family down by not being able to overcome the CRM and get to them. I hate that he had to carry that false thought that he’s a failure for so long. 

This letter also shows that Rick is the literal embodiment of loving his wife more than life itself. He feels there is no version of him that can be alive without her so he has to die. And even dead, he knows he'll still always love Michonne which makes this outcome a punishment worse than death because at least in death you don't have to be aware of your loss. 😞

But let me stop here because...

I'll conclude by saying - Rick's last letter was painfully beautiful and tragically romantic. I love that his love for Michonne makes him want to write poetry and prose about how he feels about her and how much she means. I get it because Richonne’s love has me writing for days too. 😇

After this letter, I so needed a reminder of the light at the end of this super dark tunnel and once again, Rick’s dreams came to the rescue to deliver in all ways. 🙌🏽

I mean this next scene delivered Richonne, it delivered gorgeous chemistry, and also it delivered pizza and a ‘proposal’ so naturally it’s my favorite scene of the episode. 😊👌🏽

[fan-a-tink]

Young Royals S3 thoughts

EP5

Even just hearing this scene’s echo was horrific. It must have been so much worse to actually go through it. 

It must be so hard for Wille to reconcile how he knows Erik which what he now knows about him. And he is not here anymore to defend himself. Uuuurgghhhhh!

Please talk to Simon. Please talk to him. Shutting him out will not make anything better.

Sara and Felice doing desserts together, that’s the best idea anyone has ever had :) A chance for them to talk, yay!

This Micke is starting to be a dad too good to be true. This is sketchy behaviour. He is too happy, this is going to spiral out of his control. Oh Sara I am worried for you….

Ok, I am just going to say it (even 2021 me would judge me so hard for this) but August „redemption arc“ is working. Like I honestly believe that he is trying to be a little bit better as a person. I want him to be alright. And yes, I am shocked that I think this. 

Whose locker is number 60? Is that Sara’s? 

Wille once more calling his parents because he needs support. And his dad once more not stepping up. Nobody is perfect, not even Kronprins Erik….!

Edvin Ryding, the actor you are…

This episode it’s Wille’s turn to look as if his soul has left him. 

Oh shit this will be the music room fight. I am not ready. I am not ready. No no no no no noooooooo.

RIP Wille in the choir. Those scenes in episode two were worth it though :)) 

It is so typical for Simon to think that he has done something wrong. Simon, my love, you are not ‚difficult‘ for asking questions!! You are wonderful. 

Wille, those are your thoughts, not Simons. They are your fears, your doubts, your anxieties. And they are completely valid. But please don’t put words in Simon’s mouth and push him away like that. „Maybe he gave in to peer pressure. What do you know?“ Like, Simon is trying to help you here, he’s trying to talk it through with you and help you out. Nooo, don’t walk out on him?!!!

Simon being left behind in the music room is just as devastating as Wille being in there after their fight last season. I am done with this music room. 

The 36 on Simon’s locker is now always going to remind me of that fan exam :)) I was sooo unsure about that question haha

So she takes the letter, but is she reading it? Should we assume she read it? Or is she just not going to read it? I am confused…

Oh no. Micke has forgotten. The hope and desperation in her voice that she’s trying to conceal while leaving these voice messages for her dad is killing me. Also, ruuuuuun! You can still make it :) 

Why is Wille only ever with Felice when he’s had a fight or something with Simon? Like, when they’re good, he never hangs out with her. 

I also do believe he would have accepted and embraced Wille’s queerness. But I guess it’s the fact that we’ll never know that is so hard to deal with.

Purple nail polish ✨ slay :)

Sara made it :) But also, it’s stressing me out that she just puts her id back into her bag and doesn’t close it properly. It could fall out!

That is so heartbreaking seeing that Micke is falling back into the habit of drinking with his friends. And the worst possible moment for Sara to find out, mid-driving test, in the middle of the road. 

Linda giving Simon the long overdue hug and telling him he’s not doing anything wrong. YES!

„Love shouldn’t be this difficult“ - Linda, I trusted you!!! Don’t give Simon ideas.. 

Sara turning up at the house, breaking down. Simon hugging her. Forgiving her. I am in actual tears now. Can’t handle it. I’m sooo glad he is forgiving her. This was soooo necessary. Finally some healing…. 

That’s a decent apology text, Wille, I’m proud of you :)

The nail polish looks sooo good!!

And its off 😂 That was shorter than Wille’s career in the choir..

The Happy Birthday Song Scene will forever be my favourite Wilson scene. I am crying my eyes out because I know it’s all going to go wrong soon, and this might be one of the last moments of happiness. And it is SO BEAUTIFUL!!!!! 

Also I am sooo glad the ‚Is everything ok between us?‘ line happened here and now was immediately answered with a ‚yes‘ - that takes away one of my biggest fears from the trailer… 

Also, he made him a sandwich? Asjdnä oajbef lskdfb .sjdnfsldnf lsdn 💜

I like Farima. Also her green suit is gorgeous :) 

They are holding hands in the car !!!!

„Maybe it was stupid to tell you that thing about Erik. I get that it must’ve been tough to hear.“ Yeah, no shit, August.

Simon is just chilling, living his best life eating cake :) 

„Cause there’s a risk of poisoning.“ Oooff. Simon’s expression is golden :))

I think Simon will never get used to having staff to take care of everything. And to Wille being absolutely ok with that and not even noticing it. 

Spotted Lisa Ambjörn, hihiiiii :))

Please make Simon feel welcome. Please. 

Why are they all pretending like everyone’s happy and fine? 

August is just so happy to be near Sara, it is actually adorable. 

Felice and Sara working side by side. I have so much hope that they can find their friendship again. Like, they are both loving being in each other’s company..! And Felice wanting to be a chef? I am here for it!!!! That whole little scene was beautiful :))

That is the most awkward dinner conversation ever. Poor Simon. Poor Wille. And they really don’t make it easy for anyone just bringing everything back to Erik. Like, that just adds so much pressure on Wille, and also this is such a vulnerable topic for him right now… 

Class Bad Boy. Lol

I love that he hates the title. Like, season 1 August would have loved it! That is GROWTH, ladies and gentlemen!

„It’s not very long. I’ll read it to you“ - dude, she can read, she just didn’t want to! 

His voice breaking up a little while he reads the letter. Malte is really on the next level this season…

The way he leans his head into that hug…! I have so much hope for them…. Please, please, please!

Yes, I can see that from Frederike’s point of view this looks bad. But you don’t know anything about the situation. And you’re just going to cause problems. But of corse she runs straight to Felice. Uuughhh, and things were just starting to look like they could be friends again someday. 

Wille playing a bit of the school song. Is that the only thing he remembers how to play, because he taught it to Simon? 

Wille, you’re being unfair. Yes, it’s hard for you. But Simon is also allowed to find it hard. And he is only trying to support you.

I’m sorry, but Wille’s parents could not be more useless right now. I am so glad Wille is finally speaking his mind. Maybe the delivery is not the most productive, constructive, diplomatic, but a child should not have to beg for his parents to be there for him. And they should not just leave the room when he does. Like, I understand that you are ill and struggling and that it must be absolutely terrible to deal with your eldest son dying tragically in a car crash, but Wille is right, you still have a son, and he needs you!!! 

The way Simon looks horrified and genuinely scared when Wille smashes the gifts. Like, he looks kind of scared of Wille. I bet he witnessed these kind of violent outbursts from his dad when he was younger. Oh Simon….

There it is: „Love shouldn’t be this hard.“ And it hurts just as much as I thought it would. 

Wille’s cheek is so wet, he must have been crying a lot already. 

Simon’s voice cracking when he says „Maybe it just can’t work.“ - he is breaking his own heart admitting this. 

The lyrics just before the cut „I got addicted to a losing game“ - KILL ME NOW!

I am in tears. Like, I knew they were going to come to a point like this, but that doesn’t mean it’s ok!!!

[thedoodlersdomain]

So, i’m only now just watching ep 26 because I lost motivation to listen for a but BUT IM BACK AND HOLY SHIT. So here’s some live reactions to it:

Bit the inside or my lip while eating from laughing at the mental image of Link trying to do a pull up on the shower curtain and just tanking it

Normal is either gonna rock the style at 24 or it’s gonna look absolutely horrific-

THE BOOING FOR SCARY’S INTRO

I gotta hear the Butthole Ricochet album

Real organ dice would be fucking dope as hell

Ngl I genuinely wanna sign up for organ donation just to get those dice

SELL AN ORGAN FOR THE DICE (honestly i would)

Literally just finished ep 25 before starting this and i’m still in shock about what happened.

The mental image of Willy getting the shit beat out of him is so nice.

I DIDNT EVEN THINK ABOUT HERMIE NO MY BOY

You get a mech suit, you get a mech suit, EVERYONE GETS A MECH SUIT. (Except for May)

oh shit may has magic hell yeah

God if I was frozen in place for two months I genuinely would never recover my fucking body would just stop i would never recover from that pain

gotta shake your head yes and nod it no

grant ;-;-;-;-; someone please get the li-wilson boys therapy

father-son bonding: panic attack pacing

Well now I relate to Taylor more because the feeling of having your braces tightened enough to make you lisp is too real for me that shit hurts so much

Taylor getting his life lessons from anime is literally me as a kid

ANIME ISNT REAL THIS REMINDS ME SO MUCH OF UNDYNE AND ALPHYS IN UNDERTALE

Link now canonically has selective mutism in my mind and no one can convince me otherwise

Does Scary even know where the anchors are though because I thought it was only Normal that knew?

“Anyone can walk back from the darkness.” Ayo Will how can you just say these things and not expect me to be IN PAIN

WAIT TERRY NO OH MY GOD I DIDNT EVEN THINK ABOUT HIM KNOWING ABOUT HOLY SHIT

Fucking goof dimension-

THE FART PORTAL

Lark is a mood as always

Sparrow ;-;-;

oh damn Normal-

NOT THE PROBABLY

Aaaaaand end of podcast lmao

Taylor is so fucking extra and I love it so much

ROLL FOR OBNOXIOUSNESS

RUN BITCH RUN

oh shit initiative time

Taylor has 1000% been dreaming of having a break down like that

ethnicity-

Give the white guy the nat 20

FUCKING ICE CLIMBERS IM WHEEZING

LARK ‘THE IMPORTANT ONE’ GARCIA OAK

OOOO ITEM LETS GO

oh shit OH SHIT Y E S

psychologically devastation: the best attack type

Lark has zoomies now

o u c h

LINK AHHHHHHHH

the li-wilson boys need therapy ;-;

oh damn

OH DAMN NO GRANT NO WHY

from nat 1 to nat 20 big up Taylor

OF COURSE HES GONNA NARUTO RUN

yup totally planned difficult terrain

Taylor & Hermie have the best dynamic (still gives me whiplash to know he’s taylor’s uncle)

All hail the whale

MAGIC USER SPARROW

fucking soy boy-

ah yes a kids movie where adults kidnap children

NOT THE EXTRA SOUND EFFECTS

irl dm murder too test the accuracy of an attack is the real dnd life

rip terry ;-;-;-;-;

THE FUCKING CONTENT WARNING

D O M I N O E S

no take backsies

THE PARABLE OF THE ITSY BITSY SPIDER

“anythings a parable if you take the wrong message from it” honestly Anthony do be speaking truth

i’m now evaluating the mental image I had of the whale because for some reason I really have been picturing just like a tiny pokémon sized whale in like a little cuboid fish tank and it’s taken this long for me to be like “oh wait. they said a whale and meant an actual whole ass whale. what the fuck-“

the whale of conflict creation

THE NINJA ROCKS HOLY FUXK (might start caring around ninja rocks in case i ever need to break a whale out of a tank to escape parents trying to stop me from stealing an amplifier with magic)

this entire plan was nearly all for nothing-

i need this episode animated in like a proper tom & jerry style cartoon episode

NATTY 20 HOLY SHIT

this is such a dumb episode i love it

Hermie really said ride or die

Rip the whale

HERMIE NOOOO ;-;-;-;-;

GRIPPY SOCKS

OH SHIT SCARY AND WILLY ARE GOING BIG BROTHER MODE

insight into the mind of taylor swift

BB banana skin marbles gag

ayo is Lark gonna drown-

hermie and taylor drown everyone challenge

LARK’S UNCONSCIOUS IN THE WATER HE’S GONNA DROWN

this episode is so dumb i’m wheezing

GLENN COMING IN FOR THE CLUTCH YES

sparrow please save your brother-

GRANT GOT KNOCKED UP I- what in the DC Joker

LINK JUST HIT PUBERTY WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HIS VOICE FUXKING DROPPED WHAT THE FUCK

i love hermie so much ;-;

THE NO-BETRAYERS CLUB i need merch

link ;-;

oh god what’s gonna happen

somethings gonna happen

JUST TWO CASUAL PEOPLE

OH SHIT WILLY NO

O H M Y. G O D.

TAYLOR

[hazeofhearts]

Take My Breath Away

June 1995

The day was bright, but the hottest part of the day had passed an hour or so ago. Will couldn’t stop the shaking in his hands, but he hadn’t been able to stop them for three days now. It wasn’t fear that something would go wrong. Everything was covered. It wasn’t even that he was getting married! No. He was ready for this and had been dreaming of this day since he was seven. This was the first and only wedding he had ever imagined himself having. Somehow, even though he’d never gotten them, these were happy shakes. 

Will was adjusting his bowtie once again in the mirror. It felt weird to be back here, even if this was his childhood home. After the return from the California stint, reclaiming the old Byers house hadn’t been all that difficult. It would just feel wrong now that everyone had been reconnected once more. The location was pretty unreasonable for anyone else from town, and no one outside of Hawkins came into Hawkins to buy a house, especially not after the “devastating earthquake” or whatever the news had called it back then. Will’s mouth twisted with the memory of what life had been like for him back then, then smoothed out once more with the thought of what would come.

“Honey? I’m coming in,” said his mother with her timing knock, sweeping in quickly through the door to avoid spoiling anything for the guests. It’s not like this was a traditional wedding where you couldn’t see the bride in her dress, but Joyce Byers was nothing if swept up in the romance of it all. She was wearing her gorgeous mother-of-the-groom outfit, a cream-colored dress that fell just below the knees with a blazer over the top in the same color. Will had insisted that since there wouldn’t be a bride, his mother and sister should wear white. Someone had to have the honor. El had wasted no time picking out a white, off-the-shoulder gown with lace trim. Joyce had made her reservations known, but Will assured them it wouldn’t be an issue.

“Hi, mom,” Will said quietly, fingers jittering and messing up his tie more than it was helping.

“Did Hop help you with that tie? It looks a little….” Joyce waggled her fingers, nose scrunching sympathetically.

“You know, you’re also a Hopper. That nickname doesn’t work as well now,” Will laughed. “But yes, he did help me.”

“Figures. I knew when you said you wanted a bowtie that he’d insist on helping you. C’mere.”

Joyce muttered as she fiddled with the bowtie, her hands shaking just as bad as Will’s, if not worse.

“Mom? You okay?”

This was Will’s first good look at his mother in the last 24 hours. She’d been flitting around, trying to host almost every child she had ever mothered in the 80s. Jonathan and Argyle had been here the second longest, having flown in from New York. El had arrived two days after Will did, lugging her gigantic suitcase from wherever she’d modeled last. Will knew his mom loved hosting, but he wished she would settle down. Of course, he can say that about her but not himself. He is his mother’s son, after all.

“Yes, of course. Weddings are all just a little bit stressful, you know? I mean, we had Jonathan and Argyle’s union in January in New York, and now yours in June. It’s all just so much joy for your mom, you know? Do you remember when you said you’d never fall in love?”

Joyce had been tearing up as she spoke, and the tears fell at that question. Will tried to wipe her tears away without smudging her makeup. El worked hard to craft the perfect look that would highlight Joyce’s big brown doe eyes and make her look more beautiful than she did every day. That’s what El said last night anyway, while swatching different colors on her hands, Joyce’s hands, and anyone else she could get her bushes on.

“El’s gonna be pissed if you ruin her makeup, mom,” Will said, no actual malice or scolding in his voice.

“Oh, I know. I just can’t believe my baby’s getting married,” Joyce said, a sob bubbling up from her throat.

“Will, is mom in there?”

Jonathan’s voice wafted from out in the hallway. 

“Yeah, come in.”

Jonathan was alone and rushed to his brother and mother when he saw them in each other’s arms. His camera, which had been around his neck like usual, was abandoned on Will’s old bed. Will felt like he was twelve again, but instead of feeling sheltered and treated like glass, he was supported and given something of a goodbye.

“Sorry, sorry, boys. I don’t mean to get emotional,” Joyce said, pulling away first. She fans at her eyes to dry them, and Jonathan removes a dusty tissue from the box on Will’s high school desk.

“No, mom. It’s an emotional time. You don’t have to apologize. This is an incredible day. I know your tears mean you’re proud,” Jonathan said as Joyce blew her nose as gracefully as possible to smudge the least amount of makeup.

“Oh, I’m more proud than I could ever be. My babies are all grown up and doing what they love, with people they love. That’s all a mother could ask for.”

Will enveloped his mom in a hug again, pulling her as close as physically possible. Jonathan sandwiched her in from behind, his arms secured around Will’s shoulders. Will loved his sister and stepfather but appreciated this moment alone with his mom and brother.

“You raised us to go after our dreams, no matter how far-fetched and unattainable they may be. If we fell, you’d support us, and we could get back up and try as many times as possible. You showed us that growing up, mom,” Will murmured into her hair, a careful updo that would need redoing when El saw her.

“No more, no more. I’m really going to ruin my makeup if we keep in here. I just came to make sure you were ready, baby. Are you?”

Joyce continued to dab at her eyes while Will looked at himself in the mirror. He saw himself in his rich, light blue suit tailored by El. She’d managed to finagle a bunch of daisies into his locks. His hair was just a bit too short, so he looked a little like a baby bird with their fresh tufts of feathers. He loved the look. Behind him, he saw his mother and brother. The two people who had been by his side his entire life, and would follow him into his future, were there as well.

“I’m ready. What about El? Dad? Does Dustin have his notes? What about Max’s equipment?”

Jonathan clapped him on the shoulder, a rueful smile on his face.

“Don’t worry about those things. That’s what your wedding planner is for,” Jonathan said soothingly.

“I mean, I can understand how El would want to do absolutely everything, but she’s got to be overwhelmed.”

“El’s faced much worse than a private wedding. Plus, all of us helped set up the arch and chairs last night. Everyone brought the dishes they’d promised to make, and the cake is still in the fridge. We got this.”

Will took a deep breath, then let it out.

“Alright. I’m ready.”

El burst in the door then, hair in an elegant yet complicated style that Will could never dream of trying to replicate. She fussed over him, Jonathan, and their mother in that order.

“Oh, mom! I knew you’d cry if you came in here. Let’s get your makeup fixed before the ceremony. Everyone’s here now,” El said, turning to the door. Will heard a shuffle outside the hall before Jonathan shielded him from sight.

“Hey,” El said sharply, pointing to the door she left open. “It’s bad luck to see the groom before the alter. Get back, you beast!”

A laugh from the hall made Will’s heart clench and drop to his shoes in the same breath. Jonathan scooped up his camera after the door closed once more. 

“Well, it’s time for me to do my job now. See you on the other side, brother.”

“You’re sure you don’t want me to pay you? You’re a good artist and deserve to be paid for your work.”

“Will, you’re my brother. I’m offended you even asked. Just make sure you contribute to rent when you guys move in with Argyle and us before you get your own place.”

The next ten minutes passed so slowly, and Will could feel himself getting a little damp under his suit from his entire body sweating. Joyce guided him to the backdoor with gentle hands and left him there to sit in her place of honor. He could hear the music that Max had curated for the day and knew who was proceeding down the aisle by the beats of the music. They’d repeatedly practiced the procession over the past few days until Will was sure everything was perfect. He called up the mental map of the yard in his brain.

The white rug, bought from a wedding supply store for Jonathan and Argyle’s union, was wedged under the back door, between the screen and the wood. It would lead to the middle of the backyard, flanked by rented fold-out plastic chairs. Each row of chairs was bookended by mason jars filled with daisies, baby’s breath, blue forget-me-nots, and white carnations. At the end of the rug, a homemade pergola, courtesy of Jim Hopper himself, threaded through with the same flowers in the jars. 

Max would be stationed closer to the house to protect her sound equipment but would sneak closer to the ceremony once she no longer needed to provide songs. Dustin was proud when he flashed his officiate certificate, and Will’s heart grew at his friend’s consideration. Steve and Robin would be stationed on either side of the house to ensure no surprise visitors. There had been many discussions about hosting the wedding in Hawkins for fear of specific people making themselves known when they were very much unwelcome. But, this was the source responsible for the lifelong love that Will was binding himself to, so Hawkins herself deserved some credit for something. In any case, Steve had his nail bat in the trunk of his car, hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

Finally, after what felt like hours of standing at the backdoor, the music shifted to something softer, and the door opened before him. Will’s hands clenched tightly around the small bunch of the same flowers littered across the venue. It wasn’t the traditional wedding march, but this was not a conventional wedding. 

El had decided a faux hedge wall would be an excellent backdrop to take pictures once the reception had finished and hide Will until the last possible second. Will caught Max’s grin directed at him before he turned the corner.

There, the sunlight peeking through the pergola and lighting on the daisies in his own much longer hair is Michael Wheeler. His cheeks are pink, his eyes crinkle upon making eye contact with Will, and he sucks his lips into his mouth. Will recognizes that as Mike’s ‘trying not to cry’ face and forces himself to slowly walk down the aisle, stepping in the correct time to the music. Jonathan pops in and out of his view, his camera flashing quickly.

The music swells as Will steps up to Dustin and Mike, and he sees Mike’s throat hitch in real time as he chokes back a sob. There are small, gentle tear tracks falling down his cheeks, and Will knows there definitely is the same on his. As the young men come to face each other, they both let out gasping laughs. Will can feel El extracting the bouquet from his hands, and they automatically go up to Mike’s face, wiping the tears. Mike’s hands, in turn, do the same for him.

They stand silently at the altar, crying the happiest tears anyone in their company has ever seen. Mike leans in, and Will, having come to appreciate certain wedding traditions, course corrects to a hug. Will’s arms close around Mike, and Mike’s arms crush them together, squeezing all the air out of each other. Will can feel Dustin’s hand on his shoulder, and he pulls them into an embrace. Quickly, both young men feel the hands and arms of their other friends, Lucas, Max, and El; and they are enveloped in a love so strong and pure that nothing could replicate it.

After everyone has sufficiently calmed down and returned to their seats, Dustin straightens up and greets the guests.

“Welcome, friends, family, and loved ones. We come here today, in the sight of you as witnesses to join Michael James Wheeler and William Jacob Byers in marriage. We gather around them now in this wonderful place, and we look on with love and hope as these two begin their new life together as one.”

Will looks into Mike’s eyes, his typically dark brown eyes turning to warm chocolate as the sun seeps through the pergola. Their hands are joined, Mike’s are sweaty, and so are Will’s. Mike rubs his left thumb on the outside of Will’s right hand, and Will can’t help but look at the daisies El has successfully weaved through his hair. He’d slept on the couch with it in a braid last night, so it has a pretty wave to it, and El has rebraided smaller pieces to hold some of the daisies. He looks beautiful, but he always has.

Dustin clears his throat, and both of them snap their gazes from one another. Their officiant has the most smug smirk he’s ever shown on his face, and their guests chuckle in amusement. 

“I suppose I’ll repeat myself. Mike and Will, are you ready to proclaim that foundation of love for one another in the sight of these witnesses?”

“Yes,” they both said in unison, matching wobbly smiles on their faces. They say that the longer you’re in a relationship, the more you act and become like them. This is no different for Mike and Will. Though aged in their own ways, their guests can still see the immense friendship and love that entwines them with each other. Mike and Will move at the same time, breathe as one, and are a unified front of strength and determination. 

“Michael James Wheeler, do you take William Jacob Byers to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you honor and cherish him; love, trust, and commit to him, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever life may throw ay you both, until death do you part?”

“I do,” Mike says, a grin splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in ways Will has seen more often through the years.

“William Jacob Byers, do you take Michael James Wheeler to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you honor and cherish him; love, trust, and commit to him, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever life may throw ay you both, until death do you part?”

Will take a deep breath, and Mike’s smile wobbles. Will’s hand reaches up and strokes his cheek, brushing his dark wavy hair away from his face.

“I do,” Will says firmly and with pride evident in his voice.

Someone out in the sea of fold-out seats blows their nose with a loud honk, and Will would bet money on it that it’s his stepdad. He’d made quite the turnaround when both Will and Mike revealed their relationship. After Mike and El had broken up for the last time sophomore year, Jim chilled out and accepted their new friendship, even apologizing for his overprotectiveness. When Will came out to his mom and stepdad, they supported him, and it only grew when he told them about his relationship with Mike. Jim sat them down and explained the dangers of being in the world but was honored to defend and protect them when and if the time ever came for him to be needed. That was a good day. 

“At this time, Will and Mike will exchange rings. The wedding ring is symbol of binding. A symbol of attachment and of belonging, not of possession, but of partnership.”

El stepped forward, the matching wedding rings on a little satin pillow embroidered with flowers. Will had made his concerns about how much she had been planning this wedding, but she said that all the items she’d created doubled as grades for her fashion courses in college. That reassured him somewhat. Dustin holds the pillow out, and each young man takes a ring. During their fittings, they discovered they were the same size, which only sealed that they were meant to be with one another.

“Mike, please repeat after me.”

“Will, I promise to love you and commit to you my whole life. I promise to be there for you when you need me, to be honest with you, to be faithful to you and you alone, and to walk through the valleys of life together, just as we will stand atop mountains together, too,” Mike recited, his hands steady as he took up Will’s left hand, giving him a reassuring smile as he began to slide the ring onto WIll’s finger.

Will let out a little sob, something so quiet that only the three up there would have heard. Everyone would see his shoulders shaking, though. Dustin reached out and held Will’s shoulder comfortingly before stepping back again.

“Will, please repeat after me.”

“Mike, I promise to love you and commit to you my whole life. I promise to be there for you when you need me, to be honest with you, to be faithful to you and you alone, and to walk through the valleys of life together, just as we will stand atop mountains together, too,” Will repeated, taking a break halfway through to catch his breath. Mike’s ring got stuck halfway on his middle knuckle when Will’s hands shook particularly intensely.

When they’d exchanged rings, Mike took Will’s hands and pressed a kiss to the back of them.

“Hey! No kissing before the officiant says!”

Their friends laughed along with Mike and Will as they realized they were officially bound to one another. It was more exciting than Will could bear! He was eager to cut the cake and celebrate with all his friends.

“Now, the couple will exchange their written vows.”

Dustin gestures for Mike to read his vows first, as requested by the couple during planning. Mike fumbles with the breast pocket on his tuxedo jacket, then pulls out a piece of paper. Will recognizes it from the library. It’s been creased, uncreased, folded and refolded repeatedly. Will bites his lip to hold back any strange noises he might make.

“Will Byers, you are breathtaking. Since the first day I met you, I thought you were the prettiest person I’d ever seen. Your hair was shining where you sat on the swings, and you looked so sad, but my little brain knew you were going to be someone special. I had to talk to you. We grew up, and I thought that I was supposed to hide myself, my true self, because of the teachings I have now since grown out of. I thought that I had to be someone strong and tough, who liked girls because that was what boys did. When I looked at you, I never saw that you were trapped in the same hell I was. You were always just you, but putting just in front of Will Byers is a crime in my eyes. You’re incredibly compassionate, know how to work a gun better than anyone else I know, and you never let anyone else tell you what you should and should not feel. You cry when you get angry, frustrated, and sad. I, unfortunately, have been the cause of some of those tears. But, you have graciously forgiven me and now I have the extreme honor of standing in front of you now, saying my vows as I am about to be married to you for the rest of my life. I can’t help but think that life has been extraordinarily kind to us, Will, and I hope it will continue to do so.”

Will heard sniffing from their gathered friends, and he knew his cheeks were red from so much crying. But he bit his tongue and smiled. Mike’s vows were beautiful, as he had been promising they would be. When Mike went to college for English, he worried so much about being good enough and having the portfolio to make a name for himself. Will had the same worries about himself and his art, but nothing else mattered as long as they were together. Things would fall into place once they were settled.

Dustin gestures to Will, and Will’s hands shake as he pulls his own notebook paper from his pants pocket. Mike reaches out, brushing his fingers lightly against the back of Will’s hand, and it steadies him. Will breathes in and unfolds his paper.

“Some of you might believe that I’ve been dreaming about this specific scenario for my entire life, knowing it would never become true. With the world we live in and what I was taught by it and certain people in it, I would never have this. But, somehow, the impossible came true. Michael Wheeler, I have been in love with you since I was five years old. It might sound illogical, but I recognized those feelings from those romance movies we gagged at on the television. I recognized them in me, and they’ve always been there. My feelings for you have never wavered, no matter what we’ve been through or said to each other in moments of juvenile anger. We’ve hurt each other sometimes, but if I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing if it was going to lead us here. I thought the world would end if anyone found out I was gay. I felt alone, and I assumed I would be alone forever. But my family and friend, you, Mike, you all loved me and told me so, through both actions and words. I never ever thought that this could happen to someone like me, where I could have this true life with my family and the boy I love beside me. It seems impossible that we’re here, standing in front of everyone now like this, declaring our love for one another. But then again, we’ve all seen stranger things.”

An understanding chuckle rose from the group as the statement was more than true. 

“Mike and Will, having proclaimed your love and commitment to one another in the eyes of these loved ones, and with the power vested in me by whoever the hell cares and the state of Indiana, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and husband! You may kiss!”

There was a moment of hesitation from both of them before Will wrapped his arms around Mike and swept him low, pressing their lips together in a kiss that mimicked their first in terms of giddiness and fireworks. Mike’s hands threaded through his hair, and Will could feel the daisies popping out of their carefully orchestrated placement. When Will straightened Mike up, the noise came back to both of them. Their family had broken out the noisemakers, air horns, and cheering. This was the typical Midwest celebration, and both boys expected nothing less from their families.

The couple, hands linked together, didn’t even make it halfway down the aisle before El attacked them with hugs, and everyone else followed. Will, buried among arms and kisses, saw Jonathan aim his camera in their direction, and he made sure to smile with as many teeth as he could. Later, when Mike and Will moved to New York and received their wedding photos from Jonathan, this would be Will’s favorite picture that he would display prominently in their bedroom. It was his favorite because Will was smiling and happy, yes, but so was Mike as he looked over everyone else’s heads to watch will. The smile on his face was so loving and soft that teenage Mike would’ve been mortified, but adult Mike would look at it with pride.

The wedding was small, less than twenty people overall, so they all mingled and talked while pictures were being taken against the hedge wall. Jonathan even sacrificed his camera to Nancy when it was time for the Byers-Hopper family to take pictures together. Everyone was emotional in those, with Joyce making everyone tear up. But the tears were happy, and it was evident even through the pictures. Nancy even got some pictures of the three original Byers with Joyce sandwiched between her two grown-up sons and her smiling from ear to ear. There were pictures of the three siblings and then just some with Will and El. 

Mike posed with Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, the ones who took him in permanently when his own parents kicked him out of the house at seventeen. He’d considered them his true parents after being disowned by the ones who created him, and they accepted the title with grace. There were separate pictures with Mike’s sisters, Holly, now fifteen and rebelling against her parents, and Nancy, a successful journalist engaged to Robin. Jonathan caught the moment when Nancy gave her brother the biggest bear hug she could, but the image did not capture what she whispered to him.

“You’re going to have an amazing life.”

There were, of course, pictures of the original party, then ones with El, and finally with Max. It felt weird to exclude the young women considering everything that they’d gone through together, but none of this could have happened if the four friends had never come together to form the group in the first place. As a joke, El demanded that she, Will, and Mike take a couple pictures together.

“No one else will understand the significance, but everyone here will.”

It had been long enough that everyone was feeling happy and content about the breakup between the two of them. When Will had come out to his family, Mike took the time to sit down with El and apologize for every shitty thing he’d done to her in their relationship and explain that it wasn’t her fault but his own due to the warring feelings in his heart. Even so, it wasn’t right to put her through that. El had understood completely and confessed her own attraction to girls. The talk ended with a hug and a new understanding of one another.

There were no best men or maids of honor because the group was all equal, and the love shared between the six of them in the party could not be strengthened or weakened. So, throughout the night, everyone talked to everyone, sharing anecdotes and having a grand time. The Byer’s house had never been so full of people with overflowing love and happiness as at this very moment. 

Max had moved her equipment into the house with help from everyone and was now managing the low, happy pop music flowing through the speakers as the day wore on. Suit jackets were stripped away, and the potluck began. It was past five now, and people were hungry. Everyone brought out their best dishes, and Jim had been slow-cooking ribs since early evening yesterday, so the meat would fall off the bone. People sat on the floor in the living room, on the couch, and in the dining room. The small table in the kitchen was covered in food, as were most of the counters. Will took particular happiness in devouring quite a few of the bacon-wrapped shrimp.

Mike came up from behind, wrapping his arms around Will and pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Hey husband, everyone wants us to cut the cake now,” he murmured into Will’s neck. The vibrations from Mike’s throat made him shiver. Will hummed, leaning his head back against Mike’s shoulder. They locked eyes, and Will pressed a kiss to the corner of Mike’s mouth.

“That means we have to put our jackets back on,” Will said.

“I know,” Mike groaned, pulling away and licking his lips. “You taste like bacon.”

Will turned with a laugh, holding out one of the shrimp for Mike, and the brown-eyed young man leaned forward, pulling the shrimp out of Will’s finger with his mouth.

“It’s good,” Mike spoke around the shrimp as he chewed.

“Let’s go cut the cake now,” Will said, linking his fingers together with his husband.

The cake cutting was sweet, with Mike and Will swiping the smallest bit of frosting onto each other’s cheeks. Will would catch the light flash of his husband’s wedding ring in the overhead lights and be blinded, but it was a welcome sensation. After all, he could say the same about his own ring. Will kissed the frosting off of Mike’s cheek and laughed as he turned bright red.

After everyone had their fill of the good food and cake, it was time for the dancing. Of course, the newlyweds were shuffled to the cleared space in the living room. The couch had been moved up against the wall, and everyone gathered in little clumps around the front room. Max is situated at her sound system and slips the cassette into the player. When Will and Mike had come to her months ago to be the DJ, she immediately agreed and asked about their first song. It had taken some deliberation, but they had finally decided on the perfect first song.

‘Watching every motion in my foolish lover’s game

On this endless ocean, finally lovers know no shame

Will felt himself melt into Mike, their chests pressed together. The next minutes would be more of Will’s favorite pictures in their wedding album. Both Mike and Will had the most lovestruck looks on their faces. Mike leaned in for a soft kiss as they approached the bridge.

“Take my breath away,” Will murmured into Mike’s mouth. Both of them had their eyes half closed as they swayed in the middle of the room. 

“If middle school me saw us, he’d lose his shit, I think,” Mike murmured, his lips brushing against Will’s with every word he spoke.

“If elementary school me saw us, he’d also lose his shit. But I think he’d lose it in a happy way,” Will said with a smile.

“Yeah, he would be. He’d be so cute,” Mike whispered, the space between his eyebrows crinkling so hard that Will reached up and smoothed it out.

“Hey,” Will cooed. “No thinking sad things. It’s our wedding day.”

Even if Will’s words might sound stern, Mike knew he wasn’t actually upset at Mike expressing his feelings so visibly. It was something they’d worked on together and with Mike’s psychologist. Mike’s hands made their way up under Will’s tuxedo jacket, but above his dress shirt, and were simply rubbing his back as they swayed to the song, their feet knocking into each other every once in a while.

“I know. I’m happy, you know that.”

Months of waltzing practice were wasted as the newlyweds simply swayed back and forth on the floor, too lost in each other to care. The couple had taken the classes together but fronted that their fiancées were best friends and planning weddings within two weeks of each other. It was the perfect ruse. Will smiled into the collar of Mike’s jacket at the memory. Jonathan floated through the smattering of people, his camera flashing every once in a while. Joyce watched from her spot on the couch against the wall, hands over her heart as tears poured from her eyes. Her baby was all grown up and going off to live life. 

The reception began to settle down when Nancy had to take Holly home at ten. Ted and Karen didn’t know that she had attended and would be furious if she arrived after her curfew. Holly wanted to stay longer but left after Mike promised to call her more frequently when he was in New York. They parted with a nice hug. It was a day full of hugs, and why wouldn’t it be? Pure love often takes the form of hugs.

The Sinclair family was next. Erica had used all of her vacation days from her internship with the Governor of California and had to take a red-eye back that night. Sue and Charles kissed Mike on the cheek each and headed out to drive their daughter to the airport. Mike walked them out to their car, talking all the while, and kept them for another twenty minutes. He watched them drive down the gravel road, only mildly registering the click of a camera behind him.

Jonathan was stuck behind his camera all day and night, but the huge smile on his face told everyone that he didn’t mind. Plus, Argyle also took the camera from him so he could also enjoy the day, something Will asked him to do for his brother’s sake.

El had been coasting along, making sure everyone’s drinks were filled, and everyone was having a good time. All signs pointed to yes. She was in the kitchen, packing up all the dishes that had been left over. Jim came into the kitchen then, hands tucked into his pockets.

“How’s my baby?”

El smiled, pushing back some hair that had fallen out of her updo. It was longer than it had ever been, and she was finally using some products to enhance her natural wave pattern. Her father wrapped his arms around her from the side, pulling her into his chest. She smelled his cologne which hadn’t changed since she was ten.

“Are you happy it’s over?”

El hummed, tapping her nails on the counter.

“Sort of. I’m relieved that everything went well with no sort of… other disasters.”

The father-daughter duo gazed out the kitchen window into the darkness, the pergola just barely visible in the back of the yard. El had narrowed her eyes like she was searching for something. 

“But now I have nothing to inspire me for my next semester. Maybe I should make Nancy and Robin’s dresses.”

Jim chuckled, kissing the top of his daughter’s head. She laughed as well, wrapping her arms around his neck, still facing the window.

“Maybe. I’m sure they’d let you. They know how good you did with Will’s suit,” Jim said casually.

“Maybe,” El said with a yawn. “But for now, I just want to enjoy this wedding. There’s been a lot of them this year.”

“Is yours coming soon?”

El stepped away, mouth and nose wrinkling in that very special way that El moved her face. Jim resisted telling her what a cutie she was.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure it’s my thing.”

“That’s alright too.”

The celebration wouldn’t be complete without a dance with the mother of the groom. Will actually waltzed with his mother, teaching her the steps and laughing along. Mike watched from the sidelines, a cup of water in his hands. Argyle slides up, hand coming up to Mike’s opposite shoulder.

“How you feeling, my dude? Is it everything you imagined?”

Mike smiles into his cup and wraps an arm around Argyle, mimicking the other man’s pose. They’d become closer over the years, and of course, the wedding planning and obtaining a marriage license had forged a bond that couldn’t be broken as brothers-in-law. Mike looked out at Will catching his mom after she tripped over his feet again and felt his chest opening up for the first time since the wedding planning had begun several years ago.

“It’s great, man. I do sort of wish that my mom was here at least. I don’t feel like she’d miss this under normal circumstances,” Mike said into his cup.

“Yeah. Such is life though. But now that you’re a Byers, things will look all the way up, my man,” Argyle says with a grin. He’d braided his hair for the wedding, and he looked very nice in his dress shirt and slacks. While he’d been dancing, Mike pointed out to Will that he was wearing his favorite pair of rainbow socks for the occasion. 

“I can believe it, one hundred percent. I may have lost some of my family, but I’ve gained more.”

The celebration wouldn’t last much longer after that. Dustin had to be up early to catch his flight back to Texas tomorrow, and he was staying with Max and Lucas, so they all left as a trio. Mike made fun of his friend for not having any leeway with NASA, and Dustin only flipped him off after a hug. Max and Lucas would be returning home to California after a few more days with Lucas’ parents.

“See you soon. Call us when you have your new apartment. We’ll need to get the dice together,” Lucas said, pulling Mike close. In the time when Lucas and Mike shared a room, they had grown as close as brothers. Both young men still had their own siblings, but uniting best friends by the tragedy of Mike’s coming out meant so much.

“For sure. My campaign writing skills are a little rusty,” Mike said with a grin.

“Impossible. You never grow out of being a nerd,” Max said, sliding an arm around Lucas’ shoulders. “Plus, you’re gunning for the New York Times Bestseller list and you’ll make it.”

“Thanks, Mad Max.”

Max groaned as she pulled Mike into a hug, then the couple gave their affection and encouraging words to Will.

“If he says some annoying shit to you, you’re always welcome at our apartment.”

“Hey,” Mike said sharply. “Don’t steal my husband from me!”

“Keep yourself in check then, Wheeler,” Max shot back, punching him in the arm.

“Byers, actually,” Will said, grinning wide and so, so cute.

“Ugh, you two are impossible.”

When it was only the Byers-Hopper family left in the house, everyone pitched in with the cleaning. No one paid mind to the pergola outside because Joyce said she might want to put a seating area out there. The newlyweds had no problem with this.

“Good night, my beautiful boys,” Joyce said, squishing her son and new son-in-law to either of her cheeks. She was definitely a little tipsy, but her husband led her to bed for the night, wishing the boys well and to see them tomorrow for a celebratory breakfast at the diner.

The day had started and gradually grown louder, and in the same way, it grew quieter until there was only the singing of crickets accompanying the sounds of sleep in the Byers household. The newlyweds were shuffling about, trying to get comfortable in Will’s bed from high school. Mike was looking around the darkened room with fresh eyes, seeing how even four years away could change his entire worldview.

Will settled on top of Mike’s bare chest, Mike’s fingers tracing between the moles on his shoulders, while Will did the same with Mike’s freckles. Will looked into Mike’s eyes, which flashed from the moonlight outside. His eyes had turned into dark pools with scattered silver blossoms in them.

“I can’t believe we’re married, Mike.”

“Me either,” Mike whispered into Will’s hair.

“I meant what I said. I never thought I could have this, could have you.”

“We would have ended up together eventually, even if it took me longer to realize why El was the only girl I ever thought I liked.”

Will hummed, breathing in the scent of Mike’s skin and feeling such a sense of contentment fall over him that he would have fallen asleep right then and there if his husband hadn’t shifted again, nudging his shoulder.

“It’s like the other part you said in your vows,” Mike slurred, clearly becoming drowsy as well.

“Hmm?”

“How you said it was impossible to kid you that it happened but-“

“We’ve all seen stranger things,” Will joined in, lifting his chin to prop it up on Mike’s chest.

“Yeah, that.”

The couple fell asleep in this way, curled into each other and with promises of their new future together on the horizon when they woke.

[putellas11]

A/N: This fic is little bit inspired by one of my favorite scenes from The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button. I hope this can bring everyone a little bit happiness after the devastating result yesterday. Hope you enjoy!

All We Have Is a Mattress (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

When Alexia asked you to move in with her, you said yes without hesitation. When the time came to pick out a place, the decision was easy. Everything else, however, proved much more difficult than you could have ever imagined. It turns out that busy and erratic schedules make it nearly impossible to get settled in a new home.

Despite having officially moved in together two months ago, there has not been a single discussion on what color to paint the walls, or what kind of furniture to buy. Days will go by and occasionally one of you will suggest getting a coffee table or a sofa, but that’s all it turns out to be— a suggestion. That’s why the only piece of furniture you have is a mattress that was dropped right on the living room floor.

Alexia, who is always exhausted from playing football and traveling, has very little interest in debating the difference between Cloud White and Chantilly Lace. And then there’s you, who spends all day going over financial reports, making the impossible happen with a budget you do not have. When you get home from work, the last thing you want to do is read an instruction manual for a coffee table. You’d much rather pour yourself some wine and cuddle up with Alexia on the mattress.  

It seemed like this would go on forever, but then Alexia invited you to dinner one night with a few of her teammates. You don’t remember exactly how the topic came up in the conversation, but all of the sudden Mapi turned to you and asked the million-dollar question.

“When are we having a party at your new place?”

Alexia stopped mid sip, frozen with a glass of wine in her hand. You looked at her for backup, but it was clear she had no explanation or excuse for not even having a bed frame.

Thankfully, you were quick on your feet.

“We decided to completely renovate the kitchen, so it might be a little while before we can have a party.”

When you returned to your unfurnished home that night, the two of you agreed that something had to be done. Fortunately, Alexia was scheduled to have three days off to rest, and that would hopefully be enough time to get a proper bed frame or at the very least, hang up a painting.

______________

DAY 1

After a very heated debate, Alexia gives in and agrees to paint the walls Cloud White over Chantilly Lace. She was adamant on the two colors being exactly the same and you strongly disagreed. So, you had no choice but to present a very elaborate and persuasive argument that seemed to have no end in sight. Alexia stood no chance.

You’ve been struggling to open the same tin of paint for the last five minutes when you finally admit defeat.

“Babe, can you open this for me, please?”

A very amused Alexia kneels by your side, “of course, mi amor.”

She’s wearing a tight, black tank top decorated with little splotches of white paint. You can’t help but gawk when she flexes the muscles in her arms to crack open the tin can with ease.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, unaware that you were holding your breath, “you’re pretty good at that.”

Alexia gives you a smirk and leans in, “I’m good at a lot of things,” she says, her lips brushing against your own with every word.

One quick peck on the lips turns into a lot more and Alexia’s hand teases its way under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. You gather the little willpower you have a left and with your palm on her chest, gently push her way.

“Ale, we still haven’t finished painting."

It’s like your words go in though one ear and out the other because she leans in again. Before she can reach, you place a finger on her lips to stop her.

“Focus, Putellas.”  

“I am focused,” she says with a look that you know to mean nothing but trouble. With her eyes locked on you, Alexia takes your finger in her mouth and runs her tongue in circles around it, drawing it out slowly.

“Now you try and focus.”

She leaves you kneeling on the floor, utterly speechless. You’re looking at the tin of paint, but you have no idea what to do with it because your mind has gone blank. Even after two years together, the effect Alexia has on you is as strong as ever.

It takes a few more seconds but you manage to come down from the cloud Alexia left you on. Now back to reality, you remember that you still have the entire living room left to paint. It’s a daunting task but you’re counting on Alexia to give you a hand when she finishes up in the kitchen.

You’re about to start on the second wall when Alexia sneaks up behind you and pulls your back to her chest, her arms around you.  

“Need some help, amor?”

Leaning your head back on her shoulder, you close your eyes and nod. “Yes, please,” you say with a tired sigh, the paint roller feeling heavy in your hands.  

Alexia nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck and gives you a soft kiss right on the pulse, “I’ll get my roller.”

With Alexia by your side, you find a nice rhythm and start making some serious progress. It amazes you how the simple act of just painting a wall together can bring you so much happiness. That’s because it’s not just some random wall— it’s a wall in the home you’ll be sharing with her for many years to come. The colors of the wall may change through the years, but the love that lives within them will always stay the same.

From the corner of your eye, you see Alexia reach down to pour some more paint into the tray and she goes still.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, looking over to see what made her stop so suddenly.

“Tell me what this says.” Alexia turns the tin around so you can read the label.

You don’t see it at a first but when you do, you have no choice but to close your eyes to avoid seeing the smug smile on her face.

“Chantilly Lace.”

“I told you they looked exactly the same!”

You want to crawl into a hole and never come out. Without realizing, you must have grabbed the sample tin of Chantilly Lace instead of Cloud White. The worst part isn’t that you painted the walls the wrong color, it’s that she will never let you live this down.

Alexia most love the look on your face because she can’t stop laughing. She stops to take a breath, but that’s only to get some air so she can laugh even more.

Her laughter is contagious, and you can feel your own lips tugging upwards, but you resist the temptation. It’s no secret you don’t like to lose, so you feel the need to do something fast to regain your advantage.

“Hey! Stop laughing at me, Putellas.” You flick the roller at her and watch little splashes of paint fall on her face.

She freezes, staring at you in shock for several seconds. Then, her gaze darkens. “Oh, you’re going to regret that.”

The moment she takes a step in your direction, you squeal and run away.

With the paint tray in her hands, Alexia runs after you at a speed that you’ll never be able to beat. Your job has you sitting behind a desk most of the day, so what chance do you have?

Alexia corners you in the kitchen and you immediately put your hands up, “Don’t you dare! You’ll get paint all over the cabinets.”

Turning her head to the side, she appears to consider your warning. When she lowers the tray, you allow yourself to relax.

That was a mistake.

Alexia’s expression changes in a split second and she flings all the paint in the tray at you. It’s a lot more than you were expecting. Your eyes are closed but you feel the paint all over your face, and you definitely heard it splatter all over the kitchen cabinets and floor.

“Oh fuck, that’s a lot.” Seeing that your eyes and mouth are covered in paint, Alexia reaches for the nearest towel and starts wiping it all away. “Perdoname, mi amor,” she says. Her apology is genuine, but you can hear the underlying amusement in her words.

When you can open your eyes, you see Alexia with her hand over her mouth in an attempt to suppress her laughter. She’s like a little kid who knows they’re in trouble but would still do it all over again.  

With a smile of your own, you bring your hands to your face in embarrassment. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it was not the right color.”

Alexia lets out the laugh she’s been holding but doesn’t hesitate to close the distance and comfort you. “It’s ok, babe,” she says, picking at the splotches of paint in your hair, “it’s not like we need to repaint, it’s pretty much the same color.”

You give her a pointed look, and she giggles.

“Just for that you’re gonna have to wash my hair for me.”  

“Taking a shower together is my punishment?” she says, her eyebrows peaked in interest. “That is so, so cruel but if I must.”

Rolling your eyes, you push her face away and walk out of the kitchen. Feeling her eyes on your back, you take your shirt off in one quick motion and let it fall to the floor.

“Are you coming or not?”

You don’t need to turn around. The rapid footsteps running in your direction is all the answer you need.

______________

DAY 2

“I’m so hungry!”

You give up on finding the screw you need and look at your girlfriend who has done nothing but complain for the last hour.

“My love, like I told you literally five seconds ago, the food is on the way.”

In response, she buries her face in the pillow and lets out a muffled groan. Hungry Alexia is a different animal, so you need to tread lightly.

“Why don’t you come here and help me finish building this god-forsaken coffee table?”

It’s an offer you make in hopes it will take her mind off her hunger, but also because you’re on the verge of pulling your hair out. For some reason, Alexia chose the most complicated coffee table in all of existence, and with her being in a grumpy mood, you’ve had to figure it all out yourself.

She lifts her head up from the pillow ever so slightly and takes a peek. “No thanks,” she says and buries her face back in.

“It was worth a shot,” you mumble and get back to work. Still unable to find the screw you need; you decide to move on to the next step and hope for the best.

Alexia lets you work in silence for exactly five minutes.

“I think I’m going to die.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

Alexia lifts her head up from the pillow. “I’m serious,” she says, and huffs when you don’t give her the reaction she wants. “Are you not going to hold me in my final moments?”

It’s a tempting offer. When you glance down at the instruction manual and see you’re only on page four of ten, you make up your mind rather quickly. You toss the manual to the side and crawl towards the mattress. All the screws you carefully organized are just obstacles in your way, so you brush them to the side to get to Alexia.

She welcomes you with open arms and your bodies fit together just right— like corresponding pieces of a puzzle. She has one leg in between yours and the other thrown over your hip.

“I think I’m going to pass out,” she says, this time her face buried in your chest instead of the pillow.

“You brought this on yourself,” you point out, your fingers wasting no time in getting lost in her hair.

“I know, I know,” she says with a sigh, “I shouldn’t have eaten all the croquetas.”    

You hum in agreement, “but you just couldn’t help yourself.”

You had warned Alexia last night that there was no food left in the house and that she would need to leave some leftovers. It was a little after midnight when you woke up to the sound of her devouring the leftover croquetas and whatever else was left in the fridge.

She lets you stroke her hair for a while longer in silence, and you’re proud of yourself for being able to distract her a little. Early on in the relationship, Alexia confessed how much she loves to rest her head on your chest, simply listening to your heartbeat and falling asleep to the rise and fall of your chest with every breath.

Alexia’s stomach let’s out a loud growl and her eyes go wide open.

“Dios Mío, I’m hungry!”

“Babe, just try and think of something else.”

“There’s literally nothing that—”

You cut her off with a kiss. It’s a kiss she was not expecting, but one she certainty doesn’t pull away from. Alexia instantly clenches your shirt with her fingers, tugging at the fabric wanting you as close as possible. Your hand finds the curve of her back and glides downwards to grip her thigh. This elicits a moan that is muffled by your joined lips.

It doesn’t take long for her to take control. Before you know it, Alexia has you pinned down to the mattress and at her mercy. One by one every article of clothing on your body is taken off and tossed to the side. A different kind of hunger consumes her, and you’re the only one who can satisfy it.  

Any sense of time is lost with Alexia’s fingers inside of you, so it’s no surprise when the knock on the door sends you into a panic.

You look frantically around the room in search of your clothes, but quickly realize Alexia threw them all over the place. Your shirt is hanging off a lamp and your shorts and panties are nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for something?” Alexia, who is fully clothed, finds the situation very amusing.

“Shut up.”

There’s another knock on the door and this time it’s a little more intense.

“Shit,” you whisper harshly, “Ale, you open the door.”

There’s no point in going on a scavenger hunt for your clothes. Acting quickly, you yank the bed sheets from the mattress, cover your body with it, and run to the kitchen where you know you’ll be out of sight.

Running was a mistake because on the way you stub your pinky toe on the partially built coffee table.  

“Ow! Fuck that table!”

From the kitchen, you can hear Alexia laughing as she walks towards the door. If you weren’t so embarrassed and in pain, you’d find the humor in the situation too.

When she opens the door and greets the delivery driver, you risk taking a peek. Alexia exchanges pleasantries with the driver and everything seems goes smoothly until he looks down at the floor and goes quiet.

There, out in the open for the world to see, are your panties.

“Oh my god,” you say in a hushed voice, leaning back against the wall with your eyes squeezed shut.

Alexia is quick to react and kicks them to the side. “Thank you, have a good day,” she says, taking the food from his hands. She doesn’t really give him a chance to say anything back because soon as she has the food in her hands, she closes the door.

“Babe, you can come out now.”

Walking out from the kitchen holding the sheet close to your body, your cheeks are a bright shade of red. “I hope you’re happy,” you tell her, your body falling on the mattress in shame.

“Oh, I am very happy,” she says, tugging at the bed sheet to expose your chest. “Now, where were we?”

You pull the sheet back up, “you can’t be serious.” It appears your idea to distract Alexia worked a little too well, because she couldn’t care less about the food just a few feet away from her. “What happened to, I’m gonna die if I don’t eat something?”

“Well, I did just eat something, didn’t I?”

Without hesitation you grab the nearest pillow and throw it at her face.

______________

DAY 3

With Alexia expected to return to training, you’re determined to take advantage of the little precious time you have left. The entire morning and afternoon were spent in each other’s arms, falling in love all over again with every kiss and giggle.

In the three days Alexia was home, you only managed to paint the walls but two of them the wrong color. There’s also the fact that you were never able to find the screw you needed for the coffee table— even with Alexia’s help, so that was that. Lastly, the bed frame you ordered got delayed in transit, so the two of you are still sleeping on a mattress in the living room. And yet, you wouldn’t change a thing.

Now that night has fallen, soft music flows through the speakers, and the warm lights from the candles dance on the walls and ceiling.

Propped up on her elbow, Alexia is content with tracing every inch of your exposed skin with her fingertips. She traces your cheekbone, the curve of your breasts, and waist.

You love her touch. One moment teasing and demanding, the next delicate as a feather. Her touch ignites a fire that leaves your body, mind, and heart in flames. It’s no wonder you never felt satisfied by the touch of those from your past.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” she says.

The softest of smiles tugs on your lips, “me too.”

Your past relationships failed because they were tainted by doubt. Doubt over whether they truly loved you or if you were just but a pastime. With Alexia there is no doubt, only certainty. Not once have you ever had to question your place in her life. She introduced you to her teammates after only a week of knowing each other. A month later she added you to a groupchat with her mom and her sister. And it’s been like that ever since. You’re her woman, and she’ll never make you feel like anything less.

“Forever doesn’t scare you?” she asks, reaching for your hand.

“With you? Of course not.”

Alexia raises your hand to brush her lips against your knuckles, “even after I covered you head to toe in paint?”

“Well…” You pretend to think about it for a few seconds, “You did a great job at cleaning me up, so yes.”

Alexia is satisfied with your answer, but she goes quiet. You’ve been together long enough to know when she’s lost in her thoughts. She doesn’t appear to be upset, but whatever’s on her mind is begging to be said out loud.

Your hand reaches up to soothe her brow, “what’s on your mind, mi amor?”  

Her eyes scan the walls of the living room, and you have no idea what she’s looking at or for. “You want to know what I was thinking about while we were painting these walls?”

“Tell me.”

Alexia finally meets your gaze and under candlelight, you notice tears rim her eyes. “I was thinking about what our kids would draw on them,” she says, a slight crack in her voice. “Does that scare you?”

This is not the first time that you’ve discussed the possibility of starting a family, but this time it’s different. When you agreed to move in together, that meant something. It meant more than just sharing a closet, it meant sharing a life and all the beautiful things that comes with it, and that includes kids.

“Baby…” you struggle to speak with that familiar lump in your throat, “I would love nothing more than seeing our kids make a mess of these walls.”

A single tear falls down Alexia’s cheek and she leans down to kiss you before you have a chance to wipe it away. Your lips tremble against her own, and you desperately hope to convey how much you love her.

“Dance with me.”

“Really?” You’re shocked, to say the least.

“Yeah, I’m feeling romantic.”

Before she can change her mind, you take her hand and lead her to a space that’s not cluttered with shipping boxes and empty tin cans of paint.

The Very Thought of You by Nancy Wilson starts to play and you think it’s rather fitting of the moment.

I don't need your photograph to keep by my bed Your picture is always in my head I don't need your portrait, dear, to call you to mind

Alexia draws your close to her chest, and you wrap your arms around her neck. You fall in step, letting the rhythm of the music control your movements. Every once in a while, Alexia steps on your toes but you don’t dare to complain.  

The mere idea of you The longing I hear for you You'll never know How slow the moments go Till I'm near to you

In each other’s arms, it’s as if you’re the only two people in the world. You move together, laugh together, and love, together.  

[flightfoot]

Perspective From Another Timeline

Thanks to my betas @steelblaidd and Izzybusy!

I ADORE @buggachat new Bakery Enemies AU. This idea just kept on swirling through my head, I had to write it! This is set between parts 13 and 14, so after Adrien meets Alya and Nino but before Marinette starts sympathizing with him. AO3

---------

“You okay?”

Alya shook her head, trying to clear it. “I’ll be fine. I’ve weathered worse than that - we both have.”

Nino grinned at her. “True that.”

Alya smiled at him fondly, remembering Heroes Day. It was a bittersweet memory, with her having been turned against Nino and them both being akumatized. 

But they had fought to protect each other as best they could. She’d seen Prime Queen’s footage, how Carapace had struggled to get her to fight against Dark Cupid’s magic, how he’d only given into despair after she’d given into akumatization. 

“What did that blast do to us?” Nino wondered. “Everyone else the akuma blasted just disappeared. Why’re we still here?”

Alya’s brow furrowed. “I dunno… hold on, let me check to see whether any new info on the akuma’s been uploaded.”

Pulling out her phone, she tapped on the Akuma News Alert app.

An error message popped up, telling her that she had no internet connection.

Puzzled, Alya checked her phone’s other settings. 

No wifi - no wifi even recognized, much less connectable - no cell service, no connection to the outside world at all.

She glanced over at Nino. “Hey, you got any signal?”

Taking out his own phone, he quickly checked his connection. He shook his head. “Not a single bar.”

Frowning, Alya looked around. “Maybe all the cell towers were taken out?”

Everything looked intact though, no sign of any destruction at all.

Something else caught Alya’s eye. “Hey Nino, what time should it be?”

Nino blinked. “Well I mean lunch just started so it should be a little past noon-”

He glanced around, noticing the long shadows and the pinkish-orange of the evening sky.

“-which it clearly is not anymore,” he concluded.

Great. “Guess Ladybug and Chat Noir must’ve taken a while to defeat the akuma,” she said, putting her phone away. “Hopefully my parents aren’t too worried. They like me to text them just after an akuma attack, but right now…?” she gestured to her pocket.

“My folks aren’t as worried,” Nino said. “But they still expect me back home before the sun goes down. They’ll be getting nervous soon.”

Alya let out a small sigh. “So much for playing Super Penguino together.”

“Hmmm…” Nino’s eyes gleamed. “You know… it’s not night just yet. And I’m sure my parents would understand if I was a few minutes late because I grabbed a bite to eat.”

Grabbed a bite to eat? What was Nino hinting at…?

Alya looked around at their location more closely.

Wait… that blast seemed to have carried them to that one park, the one near-

Alya grinned. “I think my parents will forgive me for not calling in if I bring them fresh-baked treats from the best bakery in Paris.”

---

*ring ring*

The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the store. 

Instantly Alya felt her shoulders loosen up, releasing tension she didn’t even know she’d had. There was just something so warm and comforting about the bakery.

Of course, a lot of that was due to the people running it. Good luck finding more friendly, caring people than Marinette’s parents. Sabine often checked up on anyone who seemed to be struggling or upset (and ready to protect them if they were - Alya had seen the video of the time a TV crew decided to invade Marinette’s privacy), and Tom was basically a giant teddy bear in human form.

But neither of them were manning the counter today.

Instead a young woman stared back at them.

A very familiar-looking young woman. 

“Marinette?” Alya asked cautiously.

The woman stared at her for a minute. “Alya?” she finally asked. “What happened to you?” She paled. “Did a new supervillain attack? Is that why you and Nino are younger?”

Huh. Weirdly scared reaction from Marinette. They’d all gotten used to supervillains by now. She’d expect an older Marinette to take them in stride even more than the current Marinette.

Hm… an older Marinette, a different time of day, and Marinette not seeming to know about the latest akuma attack? 

“Marinette… what year is it?” 

Marinette blinked for a moment. Her eyes widened.

Seemed Marinette understood what she was getting at.

She told Alya the date.

Her hunch was right. “We’re in the future,” Alya breathed.

A wicked grin slowly spread over her face. 

Five years was a long time. A lot of things could have happened. A lot of information could’ve come to light.

Like Hawkmoth’s identity.

Or more information on the Miraculous.

But most importantly right now-

She leaned in close to Marinette, making sure to keep her voice down, just in case someone else was around in the back. “So did you ever get together with a certain blond-haired, green-eyed model?”

“Uh… what?” Marinette asked, looking puzzled.

Alya snapped her fingers. “Adrien. Did you and Adrien finally get together? Ooooh, if you did you’ve GOTTA tell me how the confession went! Or, no, wait, don’t tell me, I want to get the deets at the time. Just let me know how long I’ve got to wait, girl!”

Marinette just stared at her, slack-jawed. “Adrien… like ADRIEN AGRESTE?!” she said, her volume rising with every word.

Alya’s eyebrows flew up. “Um… yes…?”

She’d thought that Marinette would be glowing about finally getting together with her crush, or dejected about still not being able to spit out what she wanted to say to him, downcast over him rejecting her, or maybe even infuriated because he mistreated her and they subsequently broke up.

(The last one was VERY unlikely though. After the Felix debacle, she’d learned to have a bit more faith in Adrien’s good nature.)

Shock at the concept of dating him? Not something she’d anticipated.

Footsteps echoed from behind Marinette.

So one of Marinette’s parents must’ve been in the back-

Adrien popped his head around the corner.

Seemed both he AND Marinette had aged well. 

Not that Adrien looked all that different. Taller, definitely, maybe with slightly messier hair and… were those earrings? They looked good on him.

“Hey dude!” Nino waved at his best friend. “What’s up?”

“Uh…” Adrien said, scratching the back of his neck.

“WOW those outfits really take the years off, huh?” Marinette said loudly, shoving them out the door. “Make you look smaller than usual. Well we better go talk about plans later okaybye-”

She promptly slammed the door behind them, physically pushing them away from the bakery.

After Marinette had dragged them a good distance away, Alya finally got over her shock, turning around and glaring at her. “What was that about?!” she asked Marinette indignantly, hands on her hips. “You know me, I wasn’t going to spill anything to him. That’s why I was talking so quietly! Why’d you have to do that?!”

Nino frowned, seeming more concerned than annoyed. “Adrien looked really hurt by that. Not cool.”

“There’s nothing to spill!” Marinette protested, gesticulating wildly. “I only met him for the first time two days ago!”

*record scratch*

Two-

Two DAYS ago?!

Ok, hold up.

“Adrien joined our collège class the day after I did! He sits in front of you in class! What’re you TALKING about?!”

“Uh… no…?” Marinette tilted her head to the side, befuddled. “I think I would remember that, even if it was a few years back.” 

Alya let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, no kidding. He would be uh, difficult for you to forget. Heck, even if your memory was erased, you’ve got so much stuff revolving around him, I couldn’t see that lasting long.”

Marinette blushed. “Why do you think I have a crush on him?! He’s HAWKMOTH’S SON!”

“WHAT?!” Alya and Nino yelled in unison.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Hawkmoth a couple years ago,” Marinette explained, pulling out her phone.

A moment later she held it up, showing a blog post from the Ladyblog.

Oooh, that’s a nice graphical design. I’ll have to look into updating my site, Alya thought.

Turning her attention to the picture, she squinted. “Hey, can you enlarge the photo?” She asked.

Marinette complied, enlarging it and turning her phone sideways, letting it fill the entire screen. 

Gabriel Agreste being led away in handcuffs by the police, with Ladybug and Chat Noir in the background. Ladybug looked satisfied, with maybe a twinge of melancholy, but Chat Noir…

He stared vacantly ahead, seemingly not focused on anyone or anything, a smile on his face - but the most forced one she’d ever seen.

“What’s wrong with Chat Noir?” 

Marinette frowned, looking troubled. “I don’t know. He seemed really, really upset when Hawkmoth was defeated. It was a tough battle, bad enough that neither of them have returned since, but that doesn’t explain why-”

She trailed off, lost in thought. 

A moment later she looked up, meeting Alya’s eyes.

Immediately she waved her hands around, trying to ward off… something. “I- I mean, that’s what I read on the Ladyblog and what I could piece together from video footage, it’s not like I was there, NOPE. I was huddled in my room the entire time. Not like I have any insight into what Chat Noir was acting like during the battle, not beyond what any other civilian would know! That would be ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!” she let out a few forced guffaws.

Alya’s eyebrows flew up.

O...Kay…?

Maybe Marinette had been following Ladybug and Chat Noir during the final battle and hadn’t wanted anyone to know? She’d wondered whether Marinette might have a thing for Chat Noir, but her crush on Adrien dwarfed any feelings she might have had for him. Plus it’s not like Marinette would actually know Chat Noir, unlike Adrien.

Thinking about Adrien…

“He must’ve been devastated,” she murmured. Marinette looked at her questioningly. “Adrien, I mean,” Alya clarified. “Having your father turn out to be a terrorist? I can’t even imagine.”

Marinette buried her face in her hands. “Not you TOO,” she said, her voice muffled.

Nino slowly started edging his way behind Marinette.

“What’s your problem with Adrien?” Alya asked. “Did he do something?”

Marinette glanced away. “Not… exactly… I just… I’m afraid that it might all be an act. That he might’ve been helping Hawkmoth secretly, and… and even if he wasn’t before, that he might just be biding his time, waiting until he figures out who Ladybug and Chat Noir and then BAM!” she slammed her fist down on her other hand. “He takes them out, steals all the Miraculous, frees his father and rules Paris FOREVER!”

Alya reached out towards Marinette tentatively. She collapsed into Alya’s arms. 

Hugging her tightly, she sang a soft nonsense song, rubbing small circles in Marinette’s back. 

She’d done this a few other times since she’d met Marinette, though she’d never thought she’d do it underneath these circumstances.

Whatever these circumstances actually were.

Did everyone have amnesia or…?

“Do you have any big memory gaps?” Alya asked once Marinette’s breathing had calmed down. “Especially from five years ago?” 

Marinette shook her head. 

She’d shelve that theory for now then. More likely it was…

“An alternate timeline, huh?” Alya said.

Marinette looked up at her questioningly.

“That’s what I think this is,” Alya explained. “I WAS thinking that maybe there’d been some sort of mass amnesia, but if you don’t have any memory gaps - and trust me girl, with how involved you were with Adrien, there WOULD be memory gaps - that seems unlikely. I’m betting this is some sort of alternate universe, one where Adrien never got to go to school.”

“I still don’t get why you think there’s something between me and Adrien!” Marinette said. “I mean sure, he’s pretty, but did I really fall for him just for that?” 

Alya shook her head. “Actually, you hated him at first. Chloe’d been bragging about how he was her friend, and with that on top of you catching him trying to remove the gum Chloe’d planted on your seat and mistaking it for him PLANTING the gum… well… both of us just assumed he was a spoiled rich bully, just like Chloe. Luckily that turned out not to be the case.”

“How’d that misunderstanding get cleared up?” Marinette asked. “And how did your Marinette jump from that to crushing on him?”

Alya grinned. Marinette had ranted about this moment to her SO. MANY. TIMES.

“School let out later that day. It was raining and Marinette had forgotten her umbrella, so she hung back a moment, long enough for Adrien to approach her. At first she looked away from him, not wanting to acknowledge his greeting. But then he told you - told her I mean - that he hadn’t done it, promised that he’d just been trying to take it off with such sincerity that she had no choice but to believe it. He opened up to her, even though she’d been shunning him just moments ago. And finally he gave her his umbrella, just because he could. Because it was the kind thing to do. She’s been a goner ever since.”

The Marinette in her arms looked away. “I can see why she might have developed a crush on him. But I still dunno whether I trust him.”

“I don’t know whether I have anything that could convince you on that,” Alya admitted, “especially since this is probably a different timeline, and for all I know he could be evil here. Just make sure that you’re judging him on his own merits, okay? Not who he’s associated with. Not his fault he has so many crappy people in his life.”

“I’ll… take it under consideration,” Marinette said reluctantly. 

Marinette looked from side to side. “Where’d Nino go?”

“Oh, he snuck back into the bakery several minutes ago.”

“WHAT?!”

---

Nino opened the door to the bakery, letting out a small sigh of relief. He really wanted to check in on his best friend, and judging by Marinette’s behavior, she wasn’t exactly keen on him or Alya chatting with Adrien.

Thinking back on what he’d just heard, he frowned. 

He wished he could say that he’d never have suspected that Gabriel was Hawkmoth.

That he didn’t think Adrien’s old man could ever be capable of such evil.

But he knew better.

The guy threatened to withdraw Adrien from school and isolate him from everyone else at the drop of a hat, paid little attention to his son when he was at home, and was a very negative influence on his life in general. He might have been grieving, but… so was Adrien. He needed the only parent he had left.

And instead Gabriel had chosen to respond by becoming a supervillain and terrorizing Paris, endangering his own son in the process.

He really wished he’d gotten to hit Hawkmoth with his turtle shield more. At least he got to relish the smack he got in.

“You’re back!” 

Nino looked towards the voice.

Adrien walked closer to him, a tentative grin on his face. “I didn’t think you’d return so soon!”

“I had to come back to talk to my best friend,” Nino said.

“Best friend?” Adrien asked, blank-faced.

Oh, right. According to Marinette, Adrien hadn’t joined their class. She hadn’t even met Adrien until recently. 

Had some sort of memory-wiping akuma attacked? Wouldn’t have been the first time. 

“Do you know who I am?” Nino asked, pointing at himself.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… well I know you’re friends with the Ladyblogger and Marinette, and… sorry, that’s it.”

He looked really apologetic, like a dog who’d ripped up a bunch of toilet paper and acted guilty about it once caught.

Hm. If it had been a memory-erasing akuma, maybe he could jog Adrien’s memory…?

And even if it wasn’t, he wanted to let Adrien know that someplace, somewhere, people cared about him. If Marinette’s reaction to him was any indication, he’d need that reassurance. Being looked at with suspicion, having people run from you just because of who your dad was, thinking that you might’ve been involved in his crimes… he couldn’t imagine.

“You joined our class the day after Hawkmoth first attacked,” Nino told him, pulling out his phone.

Adrien shook his head, looking confused. “Uh… no? I wanted to, I REALLY wanted to go to school, but Father-”

He cut himself off, looking away.

“Marinette said the same thing,” Nino told him. “That you hadn’t enrolled in our class, that she’d only met you recently. I don't know what that’s about, whether everyone’s memories were wiped, or an akuma messed with the past, or what.”

Come on, come on, where was it- ah!

He clicked on a photo, one taken a few months ago, holding his phone up so his friend could get a better look.

Adrien squinted for a moment. His eyes widened. “That’s-!”

Nino nodded. “Our class photo. The official one, anyway.” He chuckled. “I liked our unofficial ones better.” Swiping to the side, he showed the new ones the class had taken at the park. 

Adrien’s jaw dropped more with every new photo. He let out an involuntary bark of laughter at the one of himself, Nino, Kim, and Juleka posing. “I- I always wanted to mess around like that at photoshoots,” Adrien said. His voice trembled slightly. “But I wouldn’t be able to get away with it. And that’s mostly fun when you can share it with friends, at least share the picture, and I- I couldn’t. Chloe wouldn’t have appreciated it, and L-”

He cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Luka?” Nino asked. 

He didn’t know why Adrien would know Luka and not anybody else, but he seemed the most likely option.

“Uh…” Adrien scratched the back of his neck, looking away.

Hm, he’d have to see if he had- ah!

“You played in Kitty Section too, with Luka, Rose, Ivan, and Juleka.” Nino explained, clicking on the video. 

Adrien’s hands shook as Nino handed him the phone, watching the mini-concert.

“I- I was allowed to- I got to-” Adrien’s voice quavered. 

“Not at first.” Nino grimaced, remembering how bummed Adrien had sounded when he called him. “Your old man said that Agrestes were soloists, and that we were all bad influences.”

“HE was the bad influence,” Adrien said. A current of anger, of venom ran through his voice that Nino had never heard before. 

“Well I already knew that, even before finding out he was Hawkmoth,” Nino said, making a face. “Dude needed to chill out.”

Adrien snorted. “If he had any ‘chill’ he wouldn’t have decided that becoming a supervillain was the best way to heal my mother.”

Oh.

So THAT was why Gabriel had done it.

He’d just thought it was standard ‘I’m an asshole and want to rule the world while being a jackass to everyone in my life’ behavior.

(He still wasn’t going to rule out that being a factor.)

Nino put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder sympathetically. “At least he’s gone now and you’re free, right?”

“Right,” Adrien said. He didn’t meet Nino’s eyes.

“Not you TOO,” Marinette had said, burying her face in her hands.

As if she found it exasperating that Alya sympathized with Adrien. As if she had expected differently. 

Those worries she’d voiced as Nino had been tiptoeing away, about Adrien helping Hawkmoth, about him lying in wait, biding his time… Marinette probably wasn’t the only one to have that concern. And with Adrien’s face being as well-known as it was...

“You AREN’T free, are you?” Nino asked, eyes wide.

Adrien sighed. “I was as surprised as everyone else when I found out who Hawkmoth was. That someone who’s caused that much harm, that much trauma to this city, lived in my own house.” He clenched his fists, digging into his jean’s fabric. “I could barely believe it… no… I didn’t WANT to believe it.”

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I- I only remember snippets from right after his arrest. The police chief talking to me. Riding back to the station. It’s all a blur. Everything felt like I was processing it underwater. It was all so blurry and muffled. Even- even then, though, I could feel everyone’s accusing stares.” “I understand why, don’t get me wrong,” he cut in hurriedly. “Who wouldn’t be suspicious of the son of the terrorist who’s been making everyone’s life miserable for the past four years?” Adrien almost panted with exertion, his eyes wild. “And- and it was happening in my own house! Underneath my nose! I should have KNOWN! I could’ve stopped this!” 

Reaching out, Nino pulled his friend into a hug. 

Adrien stiffened for a moment, before melting into his embrace.

“It’s his fault, not yours,” Nino murmured. “Remember that, dude. He was the adult. He was your parent. Your ONLY remaining parent. I’ve met the guy. And I’ve heard you talk about what he’s like. If you had investigated more?” Nino shuddered, thinking about the disproportionate punishments the bastard had enacted. “And knowing he was HAWKMOTH on top of that? I’m kinda glad you didn’t. Yeah, maybe you could’ve ended things sooner. Or maybe he would’ve hurt you more before you had the chance. I’m just glad you survived.”

“I-” Adrien’s throat sounded tight. “I’m- I’m glad I survived too.”

They stood there for a moment, Nino feeling Adrien’s breath go in-and-out, his heartbeat racing, until it gradually started to slow.

*ring ring*

Adrien and Nino broke up their hug just as Marinette burst through the door, Alya on her heels. She skidded to a halt in front of Adrien - but not quite in time, sending her careening towards the floor.

She never made contact.

“Woah!” Adrien shouted, catching her in his arms.

Nino detected a hint of pink to Marinette’s cheeks before she abruptly sprang to her feet.

“So, uh,” Marinette said awkwardly. “I’m guessing Nino talked to you about some stuff. I mean, of course he talked to you about stuff, because that’s what talking is about. What- what I mean is, what were you two talking about?”

“I wanted to show him how much we care about him,” Nino told her. “Especially since with this… amnesia?”

“I think it’s an alternate timeline,” Alya said. 

“Especially since in this timeline,” Nino continued, “it really doesn’t seem like he had anyone.”

“I had a couple other friends,” Adrien told him quietly, giving a melancholic smile. “But I lost contact with them right after Hawkmoth’s defeat.”

Noticing Nino’s frown, he hastily added, “they didn’t abandon me or anything! They were online friends. One moved somewhere without internet reception, and the other... we never knew each other’s names. But we talked all the time. We chatted, laughed, defeated villains together…”

“In the video games we played, of course!” he added after a moment. He chuckled fondly. “We played as a team. Together, we were unstoppable, no matter what our opponent threw at us.”

Adrien swallowed. “But in the aftermath of Hawkmoth’s defeat, with all the turmoil, with everything that happened… I lost my means of contacting her. I- I don’t know whether I’ll ever get to see her again.”

“We’d promised to meet up after Hawkmoth’s defeat,” Adrien said. His voice cracked. “That- that once it was safer in Paris, we’d finally tell our names.”

His eyes dropped to the ground. “Instead, we lost each other. Maybe for good.”

“I know what that’s like,” Marinette said. She sounded strangely distant. “I had a friend like that too. I cared about him. A lot. Maybe… maybe even as more than a friend.” She said the last part haltingly, as if she’d only just admitted it to herself. “He- he wanted to know who I was. For me to know who he was. But- but I couldn’t do that. Not in Hawkmoth’s Paris. I already cared for him so much it ached. If I was closer to him than that- if I’d accepted his rose- I’m- I’m afraid Hawkmoth might’ve used the strength of those feelings against me. That I could’ve gotten akumatized, or he might’ve, and if we knew who each other was, knew WHERE the other one was… I just… I couldn’t accept that we might be sent to hurt each other.”

“We talked while the final battle was raging,” she continued. “He seemed really upset, more angry than I’ve ever seen him before, but… also kind of sad. I wanted to know what was wrong, but there wasn’t really time to press him. And after that battle he just… disappeared. I knew there was going to be some sort of disruption, but- but I’d thought we’d have more time to talk beforehand, that we’d be able to exchange new contact information. We were cut off before we had the chance.”

“I- I think of him every day,” she said quietly. “Wondering how he’s doing. He was always so positive, no matter what life threw at us. I hope that wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, he hasn’t lost that positivity, that optimism, the ability to see the best in the world and in others.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to know you cared for him so much,” Adrien said, giving her a warm smile.

Marinette blinked, giving herself a small shake. She turned to Alya. “I dunno whether you’ll remember any of this after the Ladybug in your time restores anything, but on the off-chance you do, is there anything you need to know?”

“Oh!” Alya pulled up some footage. “You told me who Hawkmoth was, but what about Mayura?”

“Mayura?” 

“Who?”

Alya snapped her fingers. “You know, the Peacock Miraculous wielder, the one summoning the sentimonsters! Did she not exist in this universe?”

She pulled up part of the fight against Mayura, the sentimonster Ladybug, and Hawkmoth.

The video ended, she took another glance at Marinette and Adrien.

Marinette seemed to be in shock, staring straight ahead.

Adrien frowned, thinking. “I’d wondered for a long time how Father managed to hide his supervillain activities from Nathalie, considering she was around him most of the time. I thought maybe she was just really good at never asking questions.”

He grimaced. “Looking at that? I’m betting she didn’t ask questions because she already knew the answers.”

“You think Mayura’s Nathalie?” Alya questioned.

He nodded. “Unless something’s different in your universe. My father doesn’t have a lot of associates, and the way he acted around Mayura there, how he was willing to pass up a chance to fight Ladybug for her Miraculous in exchange for catching her… the only people I can think of who he’d do that for are my mother and Nathalie, and mom…” he trailed off.

“I- I didn’t even think about that,” Marinette said guiltily. “I remember reading something about Gabriel having a secretary, but I didn’t think about her much beyond that.”

“Maybe you could ask this universe’s Alya to post something on the Ladyblog, telling Ladybug and Chat Noir she has a lead on who Mayura is?” Alya said. “I mean, I know they haven’t shown up in ages, but maybe that’s just because they haven’t had reason to.”

Marinette winced. “I… really don’t think that’s it… plus Ladybug and Chat Noir never said that someone was helping Hawkmoth. Mayura never appeared, at least in public. I don’t know what we can do about this right now, especially without proof. Maybe if Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared, but…”

She sounded doubtful. Alya was beginning to think that the final battle was even worse than Marinette had alluded to.

She hesitated a moment, before turning to Adrien. “I- I think I owe you an apology. I thought you might’ve been helping Hawkmoth, but… well… I was just judging you by who your dad was. You’ve been nothing but sweet and kind.”

Adrien smiled at her, though it was slightly strained. “It’s fine. I’m used to it. A lot of people in this city have suffered at Hawkmoth’s hands. I don’t blame them for being scared, or angry at any reminders of him.”

“That doesn’t make it RIGHT,” Marinette said heatedly.

Nino nodded. “Dude just because something’s done to you it doesn’t mean it’s justified, or that it shouldn’t be made better. Like with your old man forbidding parties. I didn’t let that stop me from bribing your bodyguard into letting me and the other guys throw a party at your place for you!”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It kinda escalated though. I think half the guys at Paris were partying in your room by the end!”

Alya gave Nino a sideways look. “And ONLY the guys because they ditched us girls while we were planting trees with a lame excuse. Seriously if you’d said you wanted to throw a party for Adrien while his dad was away, you could’ve just told us!”

Nino winced. “Yeah, my bad. At least we got to have fun there for a while before the akuma attack.”

“Akuma attack?” Adrien asked, eyes wide. “But I thought you said Father was gone!”

“He was- OOOOOOOH.”

“Yeeaaaah I don’t think he was actually gone,” Alya said. “You threw a ‘secret’ party in Hawkmoth’s house, WHILE he was still at home.”

Adrien gaped at Nino. “How’re you not DEAD?!”

Nino chuckled. “Lucky I guess?”

*twinkle twinkle*

A familiar red mass flew towards Alya and Nino.

Adrien’s eyes widened. 

“Behind the portrait!” he blurted out, just as the two of them were enveloped by the ladybugs, spiriting them off to whence they came.

It was silent for a moment.

“Do you think they heard?” Adrien asked Marinette.

“I hope so,” she said, looking off in the direction the ladybugs flew.

She turned to him. “I was planning on setting up some hang out time with Alya and Nino later this week. If you’re not busy… would you like to join?”

His smile told her everything she needed to know.

[esamastation]

Xerxes au snippet

The first official political overture the small desert nation of Xerxes makes towards Amestris in over fifty years is a year after the end of the Ishvalan Civil War. Though it is expected to concern the war, and the border between Amestris and Xerxes, or perhaps even Amestrian use of Alchemy in the war, is has nothing to do with the bloody conflict, or it's relation to Xerxes' famously pacifistic view on alchemy.

It is a simple, polite appeal to the Amestrian Government – an invitation for an Amestrian automail mechanic to join the Xerxesian court.

"Bit odd," Havoc mutters, after a copy of the letter has gone around the office a few times. "What do they need an automail mechanic for – isn't Xerxesian medical alchemy, like… world famous?"

"For given the value of fame, yes," Roy agrees, fingers crossed together and a thoughtful look on his face. "They say early Amestrian alchemists learned from Xerxesians. We still use a lot of their symbols in our alchemy – but if Xerxesian alchemists are world famous about anything these days, it's their reticence. No outsider has seen much about the way they go about things these days, if they even practice alchemy anymore."

Of course there are rumours, there are always rumours, and there's history – the great and wealthy kingdom of Xerxes, alchemically on top of the world and widely known for their wisdom and knowledge and the miracles they achieved… who reached too far, tried to achieve the power of gods, and got struck down by said gods for it. How accurate that is, no one knows, but it's known that some disaster hundreds of years ago devastated the kingdom, killed most of its people, and it never fully recovered. Now it's people can only barely scrape by, living in huts and caves and underground, and they don't treat with outsiders much beyond the absolutely necessary.

Beyond trade routes established to get Amestrian goods through Xerxes to Xing, there's never been much interest for Xerxes, except maybe for it's grand history and it's many ruins. It doesn't help that Xerxes, as far as anyone knows, has never really reached outside, keeping to its isolationist values – and since it has little to offer to other nations… no one reached back, either. As far as anyone knows, Xerxes hasn't advanced at all scientifically or technologically in the last hundred years.

Which makes the fact that they want specifically an automail mechanic, an craftsman of one of Amestris' most advanced technology, rather interesting, doesn't it?

"I hear they took a lot of Ishvalan refugees during the war," Fuery says – he's the one holding the letter, reading it through.

Roy hums grimly. There's that, though took in might be stretching it a bit. Xerxes didn't do much to protect its borders – there was no need, with a desert all around their kingdom. So, when Ishvalan refugees sought to escape the conflict and set out to the desert, there was nothing but the terrain itself to stop them. Who knows how many Ishvalans made it through the desert, on foot and probably hurt…

"Why'd they send this to our office?" Breda asks, casting a look at Roy.

"They sent it to Grumman who sent it to us," Roy sighs and leans back in his chair. "The Lieutenant General wants us to find a suitable mechanic and then escort them – along with the Fürher's greetings – to Xerxes. The mission isn't exactly time sensitive, but since we're in the East…"

There's probably many reasons it was thrown their way, really. Way to keep those uppity brats from East busy, easily justified with them being closest to the matter at hand. It also wasn't exactly vital as diplomatic missions go – but it was still a diplomatic mission to a foreign nation, which means that Roy would want to handle it himself instead of leaving it to any of his subordinates. Especially since it's to Xerxes – what Alchemist wouldn't give an arm and a leg for a glimpse at how Xerxesian alchemy is these days? So, it was expected that he'd go himself. Which would get him out of people's way for a while, and maybe open up a slot for someone else to be promoted to his place, depending how long it would take.

How annoying. Grumman can be one clever son of a bitch when he wants to be.

"Right," Roy says while his team exchanges looks. "I want a list of all automail mechanics of East on my desk by the end of the day – if you can figure out their feelings about Ishval and if they have any history with the Ishvalan Civil War, that'd be a plus. Get to work."

"Sir!" his team answers, and immediately get to it, Fuery and Fallman both heading out to probably check records, while Havoc fishes out a phone book and Breda gets the phone. Beside Roy, Hawkeye gives him a look.

"Should I start preparing for travel?" she asks mildly.

"If you please," Roy says, turning to his paperwork. "We'll take Breda with us."

"Understood."

-

Over the course of next two days, they list and investigate various automail shops in the east, Roy privately wincing at how many there are, and how many of them are less than a decade old. The Ishvalan Civil War had been a boon to the business, and a lot of mechanics from the south moved in to take advantage of the situation. Lots of new up and coming mechanics, cutting their teeth in on a lot of freshly traumatised soldiers.

It left a lot of them… unsuitable for a mission likely to involve Ishvalan refugees.

"Known for his Anti-Ishvalan sentiments," Breda says, crossing out another potential automail shop. "This one has a No Refugees sign on his shop front, which probably means the same thing. This one has a pretty high record of automail rejection syndrome. This one has had two patients die on the operation table…"

Roy rubs a hand over his forehead, already imagining having to reach for the Southern District to find someone sensible in Rush Valley, when Breda offers him a potential. "Rockbell Automail, in business for decades before the Ishvalan Conflict even began."

"Rockbell," Roy says, lifting his head. "Any relation to the two late Doctors Rockbell?"

"Yep. Son and daughter in law of Doctor Pinako Rockbell, the head mechanic of the shop," Breda says and lays the file on his desk. "Their daughter is currently an apprentice mechanic in the shop, too."

Roy grimaces at that, but accepts the file, leafing quickly through it. Old, well established shop, known for their skill and efficiency, with very high praise from a lot of former customers and no known record of either deaths on operation table, auto mail rejections, or any anti-Ishvalan sentiments. There is a slight issue of the head mechanic being an old woman and the only other mechanic being a young girl, but…

It's promising.

"Phone," Roy says, and Hawkeye quickly lifts it on his desk, turning it toward him so that he can dial easily.

"Rockbell Automail, Pinako Rockbell speaking," a woman's voice answers the phone promptly, her tone brisk.

"Doctor Rockbell, my name is Roy Mustang, I'm a Lieutenant Colonel from the East Area Headquarters – may I have a moment of your time?"

"Certainly," Doctor Rockbell answers, no noticeable change in her tone. "What can do for you, Lieutenant Colonel? Aside from automail, presumably."

"I am currently looking for a skilled automail mechanic to take part in a diplomatic mission, likely to involve Ishvalan refugees," Roy says. "Your shop came up as highly recommended."

"Hrm. What kind of diplomatic mission? Don't the military have their own automail mechanics?"

"There are some, but none in the Eastern Headquarters," Roy admits – probably because the East has such surplus of civilian mechanics these days. "And I'll be frank, the likely length of this mission makes it difficult to use any of our military mechanics. The mission is to Xerxes, and will likely take weeks, if not months."

"… Xerxes?" now the old woman's voice changes, growing a little incredulous.

"Yes, the Xerxes Royal Family sent the Amestrian government an appeal for a skilled automail mechanic to join their court, and I was tasked with the mission of finding one," Roy explains and leans back, turning to look out of the window while he talks. "You would be well compensated for your trouble, however long it would last."

"Is this… a permanent position? In Xerxes?" Still incredulous.

"We don't know as of yet, the treaties are yet to be drawn. You would naturally be part of the negotiations and your wishes and needs would be taken into account," Roy assures her. "I understand this is a bit much so suddenly, and I will hold it in no way against you if you refuse outright – though I am hoping that if that is the case, then perhaps you, as a well established mechanic, might be able to point me in the way of more suitable candidates…"

Honestly, with a shop as old and as well established as hers, Roy doubts very much she would take him up on the mission – she probably has a whole lot of regular clients and steady stream of income, and no need to move. But, it never hurts to ask.

The phone line is quiet for a moment as the old mechanic thinks. "I need to talk with my apprentice for a moment, can I call you back in, say, two hours?"

"Certainly," Roy agrees, and gives her his office number. "We'll be looking forward to your call."

"Right – one more thing. You said it's likely to involve Ishvalan refugees," Doctor Rockbell says. "How'd you mean?"

"We don't know for sure, the appeal didn't explain the need for a mechanic. But during the Ishvalan Civil War, many Ishvalan refugees fled to Xerxes. So we thought it safe to assume the two are connected."

"Ah," the mechanic says knowingly. "And they put a State Alchemist in charge of finding a solution."

Roy swallows. Ah. She knows about him. It's not entirely surprising, but… "They did indeed," is all he says. There's no real explanation he can give, no excuse. It is what it is."

"Hm," Doctor Rockbell answers, noncommittal. "I will call back in two hours."

And she does, accepting the mission with two conditions. The military would help her pack up her entire shop and all the materials and tools would be transported with them – which was understandable, even if it tripled the estimated convoy size. The other condition was that she was taking her eleven year old apprentice with her. Both conditions Roy readily agreed to, tasking Havoc and Fallman with her packing while the rest of the team arranged the convoy.

"Guess we're going to Xerxes then. We're going to need a lot of camels," Breda muses.

"Yes," Roy agrees and sighs. It would be a hard journey and probably a hard mission, and likely one for very little gain in the end. Still. Xerxes. His alchemy master would've killed for the opportunity. Might as well take full advantage of it, and learn whatever he can, even if it's only from broken murals on ancient ruins.

-

Hmm... not sure I’m getting Mustang’s voice right.

Edit: Also tumblr eats italics for breakfast apparently.

[blessednereid]

August

WC: <4100

Mentions: Sexual innuendos, cursing, slut-shaming, Affairs/Adultery, Lying, Deceit

A/N: It’s an AU, basically where James and Lily don’t end up together, and the War ends before they graduate. Snape and Peter don’t become death eaters IG but that doesn’t really matter later on. Unedited, but it’s the last day of August so I gotta get it in NOW.

Pairings: James Potter x Reader, James Potter x Lily Evans, (future) Lily Evans x Reader

~~~

Y/N

*

Salt air

*

You and your boyfriend of two months are sitting on the shoreline of the shared beach near your houses. You’ve lived in the same neighbourhood for as long as you can remember, but never really noticed each other until your formative years. And the chemistry was undeniable, which is what led you to that precise moment.

“Hey, James… What do you think is going to happen when we go away for school?” you ask meekly.

Being a Beauxbaton student is as luxurious as it sounds. You never have to put up with brutish and grotesque boys in pissing contests, and while there may be catty classmates, there’s no fighting over boys. No heartbreak. No major drama.

That being said, that didn’t mean that none of you had boyfriends. You all had your fair share of suitors from Durmstrang or Hogwarts or some other school in the country. And yours was James Potter.

He is the epitome of a perfect boyfriend. He remembers small dates, like the exact day your cat died, and knows exactly what you need.

You don’t think you’ve loved anyone as much as you’ve loved him.

And that’s precisely why you’re so afraid to lose him.

You knew that the long distance between you would be difficult. What started as a summer fling quickly became something more, and James changed from a friend who could make you laugh your guts out to the boy that makes your heart sing.

He has his arms wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. The distance isn’t going to change my love for you.

But he doesn’t realize that it’ll change the amount he can express. And that’s going to be frustrating. You’ve only been together for a little while. So how would this even work?

“We just have to trust each other, darling. I love you, and you love me. That’s all that matters.”

“But James-”

“No buts,” he states stoically. “Nothing is going to change this. You just need to trust me, trust that this is going to work.”

James

*

And the rust on your door

*

He had told you exactly what he meant. That he loved you, and that you could trust him. He knew that he loved you, and that love had taken root in the deepest part of his heart. So when he opened the door to Sirius, Remus, and Peter’s room, since he would not be staying here this year, he not only felt excitement for the new year but sheer happiness at the fact that he had found someone who loved him as unconditionally as he loved her. He did feel some remorse that he wouldn’t be staying with his gaggle of mates though.

“Mate, what’s that grin on your face for? Haven’t gotten in any trouble without us, have you?”

Apparently, James’ inner monologue reflected on his face because all his friends were made aware of the grin on his face.

“No, I just…”

He’d managed to keep the relationship a secret from Sirius that summer because you didn’t want the already confusing relationship to be found out by the Wizarding World. For reporters to make it more convoluted and twisted than it actually was.

“I’m just glad to be back,” he says, deciding he needs to discuss with you if he could tell his friends about your relationship just yet.

*

I never needed anything more

*

When he saw Lily in classes the next day, a pang swam through his chest. He didn’t see her yesterday on the train. He wasn’t focusing on that. But now he was. He noticed that her red hair had been cut short to her shoulders and that she appeared much more confident. Her school blouse had the first two buttons popped, showing just the slightest bit of rosy cleavage.

No.

He had promised you that you could trust him, and you could. He knew you could. He was going to be the man that you deserved. Lily was in the past. Lily was a speed bump on his path to finding true love with you.

But why did the way he felt about Lily now feel as strongly as it did before?

And it didn’t help any when she waltzed up to his desk and straightened her arms right in front of his face, pushing out her chest, and making his lust and sexual drive soar. He was sure it was evident. That he’d broken out in a sweat, but he attempted to play it off as cool as an Autumn day.

“Hello James,” she greeted. “How was your summer?”

He gulped. In front of his eyes was a woman, the woman that he had wanted so desperately. He didn’t know her intentions, but he knew his thoughts. And if you could see his thoughts, could hear them… he knew you wouldn’t be pleased. He knew you’d realize that you’d been right in not trusting him. “Summer was fine, Lily-flower. And you? Hang around with Snivelly, any?”

“No, we haven’t talked since the end of last year. But I’m thinking that this is more room for opportunity, to make new friends, see the light, you know?” she grinned and it lit up his heart.

“So, I was talking to Remus, and he told me that I should give you a chance to be one of those new friends,” but the way she said friends implied something more. “And at first, I objected, and then I realized, I never really gave you much light in my eyes. Do you think you could change that, Jamesie?”

And fuck, if that didn’t make his heart race a little.

Lily

*

Whispers of "Are you sure?"

*

Lily and James were kissing passionately and furiously as they stumbled into her bedroom. Since becoming head girl, she had gotten her own dorm room. James had also gotten one, but Lily didn’t want to see how messy that room was.

She moved her hands from in between their two bodies and picked up her wand to cast several different nonverbal charms.

When she was done, she pushed James down onto the bed and began tearing off her clothes. And then his. When she was done and they were lying beside each other he muttered a final “are you sure?” to her, and she nodded. He kissed her with ferocious passion until the kiss became something more.

This happened again, again, again.

*

"Never have I ever before"

*

When James left Lily’s room for the fourth time that month, she pressed two fingers to her lips in reaction to his goodbye kiss.

“I’ve never felt this way about James. About anyone,” she thought.

He made her feel alive, he made her grin, he made her giggle, and he made her heart flutter when he was around her. Of course, she knew this when she approached him. She just didn’t think it would escalate to this level so soon.

She wants to shout to the world the way she feels about him, the way he makes her feel. How he can take her breath away and make her feel like the most important and most special girl on the planet.

Like she was made just and entirely for him, and that the same applied for him to her.

She couldn’t stop her wild dreams, the ones of vivid love and passion, the ones where he would kiss her, take her hand, and profess his love in grand displays. Where he’d fight for her and never leave her.

Fantasy and delusion never left her mind when it came to him.

*

Your back beneath the sun

*

He and she both lie underneath the sun, soaking up its rays, sharing its warmth, staring at the clouds trying to make out certain shapes.

It was a sunny December day, which was rare, so they were getting as much out of it as they could.

“James, we should study,” she lightly approached the devastating topic. “It’s not like I really want to, but what kind of example are we setting as head boy and girl?”

“Well, If we go back up to our dorms, nobody will know if we’re studying or doing something else,” he said with a wriggle of eyebrows.

“No, James!” she laughs, and he joins her. His pearly teeth both ensnaring her mind and rendering her unable to focus on anything but him.

“When’s the next Hogsmeade trip?” he asked casually while he laid back down with his head facing the sky.

“Most likely before the holidays.”

She saw his face contort when she mentioned the Christmas break.

“James, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just thinking about… the war.” His face was pale, and his face sour.

“I’m thinking of joining the order after I graduate, but it’s still scary, you know. I’m worried about my mum and dad.”

“Your parents are going to be fine, James,” she assured him, but she knew he would be fully relieved until the war was over and all death eaters were locked up.

*

Wishin' I could write my name on it

*

She was sitting with Remus in the library when he brought up James. Let the record show that he brought up James, not her.

“So, how is everything going with James?”

She sighed lightly. “It’s magic, Remus. Pun intended.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad you feel that way, Lily. Really, he’s a good guy once you get past that facade he puts on. I knew you’d like him.”

“Yes,” she says faintly. Doubts flood her head about his own feelings.

“What’s wrong, Lily?”

Her eyes turn down to her paper before reaching up again to meet his. “It’s silly, but… sometimes I wonder if he truly feels the same. I mean, most people don’t harbour feelings for one person for this long. What if all along it was just lust, and he’ll cast me away now that he’s satisfied that urge.”

“Lily, I promise you, James has had eyes for no one but you for many years. I highly doubt that it was lust, James isn’t like that.”

“You know,” she smiled. “You’re right. I just wish this didn’t have to be kept so hush-hush. The amount of girls I see fawning over him is grotesque.”

“So then ask him,” he pushed.

She took that as a challenge. “Alright. I will!”

*

The next time Lily saw James, they immediately rolled into bed and did what lovers do. But after that is when she posed the question.

“James, would we- will we ever be able to make this public?” she asked in a stern voice.

She saw thoughts swimming in his head for a moment.

“Lily,” he rolled onto his side. “We- I… This needs to be a secret for now. I mean, we are waist-deep into this war, and with my plans to go into the order, I can’t risk anyone coming after you.”

His logic made sense to her, and the wizarding world would get too caught up with the son of a prestigious wizard family being with a muggle-born in the middle of all of this.

He was right, she just had to swallow her jealousy for now.

*

Will you call when you’re back at school

*

The next week, there was a Hogsmeade trip, and despite them staying near the Marauders, really, it was a date for James and Lily. Or at least that’s what it felt like. An unofficial date.

They bought each other gifts to open over the holidays, kissed discreetly under mistletoes, and held hands while walking through the village.

When they went to get butterbeer for the rest of the group, there was a long but comfortable silence for a while.

“So what are you doing for the holidays?”

“Just going back home, maybe making some treats with my mum,” he said casually. “What about you?”

“Same as you, I guess. I’ll miss you, though.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

She tapped her foot absentmindedly as they waited. “What if I came with you?”

“What?” Panic flooded his face. “No, you couldn’t come with me, I’m afraid. My house is an Order safe place. If a death eater found it, you could be in danger.”

“You’re in danger just being there.”

“And you’re in danger by just breathing, Lily! That would be a double danger. I’m not risking that.”

She cringed at her sudden need to be close to him. “Right, sorry. It was a silly idea. A mindless thought.”

His face softened when he saw her embarrassment. “I’d love to bring you home, Lily, but it’s not safe.” But by now she could tell that he was lying, there was something more.

*

I remember thinkin' I had you

*

On the train back from London going to Hogwarts, Lily sat with Marlene and Dorcas, she hadn't seen them quite as much as she would’ve wanted since the school year started, and now was the perfect opportunity.

Lily felt remorse and guilt for not telling her friends about such a crucial part of her life, her relationship with James Potter, and truly she wanted to, but what if they judged her? And Marlene has had a reputation for having a loudmouth. What if she said something and word got out?

They conversed in idle gossip before an interesting topic was brought up. One that left Lily infuriated, and ready to murder a smug bastard.

“Have you heard about Potter and that Beauxbaton girl?”

Her eyes raised in curiosity and scorn. “What Beauxbaton girl?”

Dorcas revealed as much as she knew about you to Lily, your name, family, status in the Wizarding World. By the time she was done, Lily was struck with disbelief.

“And you’re sure they were kissing?” she said in response to Marlene’s information about the article in the Daily Prophet with a picture of them kissing.

“Yes!” she exclaimed.

“I have the article right here,” Dorcas mentioned.

“Way to bury the lead.”

“Oh shush,” she said and handed Lily the newspaper out of her bag.

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The man she had been with for the past four months was kissing another woman. With Tongue.

“Well, that’s fantastic for him,” she said sourly. “He must feel so proud to have gotten a pretty girlfriend after pining after me for so long. I wonder how long it’ll be before he tries pining after me again,”

“Who knows, maybe it is serious,” Dorcas proposed.

Lily growled. “I don’t think it’s that serious if he’s sleeping with another woman.”

Marlene’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean-”

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” she said before exiting the cabin of the train and heading to find James Potter.

“So,” she said when she reached his compartment. “How long have you been seeing her?”

James looked shocked to see her. “Lily, I can explain.”

“Can you? Please explain then. Is this why I couldn’t come with you? Why you had to keep us a secret James? For Godric’s sake, how long have you been seeing her?”

He gulped. “Since the summer.” Even Sirius looked shocked.

“I lived in your house, and you didn’t tell me, mate?”

“Not the time,” Peter chastised.

“Are you serious James? You spouted all of that you love me bullshit when you were with someone else?” Her eyes radiated anger. It was like staring into the mouth of an actively-fire-breathing dragon. “Does she know about me?”

“No, she doesn’t,” he admitted.

Lily said one more sentence before stalking away. “Well, you better tell her, or I will.”

*

But I can see us lost in the memory

*

Lily had no intention of telling you anything. She didn’t even know you. How would she send an owl to a total stranger and tell them that their boyfriend has been cheating on them with herself?

Lily never set out to be a homewrecker. But she didn’t even know she was wrecking a home, to begin with.

This was James’ fault, and he was going to own up to it.

Besides, It deserved to come from him. Lily knew how she felt about being told that she was the other woman from some outside source, and she didn’t want to do that to anyone at all.

But not even the sting of betrayal could mask the ever-flowing sadness that emanated from Lily. She truly believed he was in love. And maybe he was. Just not with her. And that was okay, but she didn’t deserve what she was put through.

Still, that doesn’t stop the fact that she, herself, was in love with him, and how is she supposed to ever get over that betrayal.

*

August slipped away into a moment in time- 'Cause it was never mine

*

Within the next few months, Lily had fallen into a rut. Her grades began slipping, her mood and cheeriness faltered. Even though the Wizarding World War had recently been won, with death-eaters being locked away, that didn’t change her mood, because she wasn’t in the mood to celebrate, to begin with. Her friends noticed her down-in-the-dumps aura, and despite knowing the cause, and how it wasn’t their fault, they couldn’t help but want to help her, to fix her.

But no one could repair the damage that James Potter caused to Lily but Lily herself. And that started with making amends.

“I have to send a follow-up letter to that girl. So I’ll ask you. Have you told her yet?” She cornered James in the library because, despite Head Boy and Head Girl duties, they didn’t see each other much. After all, he was avoiding her as much as she was avoiding him.

He gulped, “I haven’t. Lily, I can’t tell her. It would kill her, she was so worried about the distance and when she saw me at Christmas break, she was so happy. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you started an affair with me, James. An affair I didn’t agree to. I didn’t want to be anybody's mistress. And she deserves to know, and I am going to send her a letter. Today! So if you don’t tell her, she will find out from me. I’ve given you months.”

“Lily, don’t do this. Please. I can’t tell her over an owl. It has to be in person.”

She faltered. He was right. His heart may have been in the wrong place, but his head is in the right one. Doing that, telling you over an owl could have devastating consequences. It was a discussion that had to be had in person.

“Easter Break. That is your chance, James Potter. After that, If you don’t I will.”

She turned on her heel and was about to leave the library when he grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“Lily, you have to understand, I never meant to hurt you,” he said. “I have fancied you for so long, and when you finally reciprocated this year, I didn’t want to pass up that chance. I was wrong. You are so amazing, and I shouldn’t have done what I did, but please believe this. You deserve so much, and I couldn’t and could never give that to you, but when I did this, I never meant to hurt anyone. I didn’t think it would go this far.”

She scoffed. “Well, it did, James. You hurt me. You betrayed me, and you betrayed her. Neither of us deserved that, no matter what.”

*

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

*

Guilt twisted in her stomach every time she thought of you. Jealousy was surely a stage at first, everything about you had her enchanted, your hair, your eyes, your glowing skin. She was enthralled, and she could see why James was too.

And then she remembered his nights in her dorm, on her bed. Tossing and turning with her, his lips on her mouth, and she didn’t feel envy. She felt regret and culpability. If she had pressed James harder about whether his feelings really were the same as before, if he’d really wanted to do this, maybe he wouldn’t have done it.

And then she wouldn’t be in this position, and you wouldn’t be about to come crash-landing on impact with this heavy, and taboo truth.

But this wasn’t about her, Lily realized. This was about you. And how you were going to feel once James told you what happened when the train meets the station, and that is all Lily can think of as she sits on her bed, staring out of her window. When her owl knocks on the window to deliver her mail, the headline of the Daily Prophet is what catches her eye. “The Prodigal son in an affair with a Muggleborn witch!” It goes on and on about how a secret inside source heard an argument between the two of them in the Hogwarts library.

There is no doubt that you have seen this, and James didn’t get to tell you. Lily didn’t get to apologize to you. This just got a whole lot worse, and Lily didn’t know how she was going to deal with the sudden turn of events.

James is the villain here, she reminded herself. James is in the wrong, but she knew that she was still an unwitting accomplice. And her gut wrenched as she pondered on that very true fact.

*

August slipped away like a bottle of wine

*

Lily had to get away from the wizarding world, so although she didn’t plan on going home for the Easter holiday, she had to now.

She was being shamed for her insidious relationship with James, by certain people, mostly Snape and his friends, that bastard. Most everyone was supportive, they realized she had no idea about your relationship, but she was still worried about what you’d say to James, but more about what’d you’d say about her.

Had James told you that she didn’t know? That he lied to both of you. Would you be mad at her either way?

Shame pulsed through her body, and she couldn’t imagine what her mother would say when she told her if she ever did.

Though when she got home, her mother instantly noticed that something was wrong.

Knowing she couldn’t take her mothers knowing stares and hard gaze, she instantly confessed to everything that happened over the semester. Her mother didn’t judge her for having premarital sex as Lily thought she would, but rather comforted her daughter and reassured her. “If James is a half-decent person, he will tell her that you did nothing wrong, and she won’t be mad at you, Lily dear.”

Her mother's reassurance helped, but her rose bush of worry wouldn’t be clear of its thorns until she spoke with you.

*

'Cause you were never mine

*

When the break was over, and Lily was about to board the train station to the red engine that is the Hogwarts Express, someone was waiting for her at the door to the train.

“My train doesn’t arrive until later,” you say plainly. “I wanted to get here earlier though, to speak with you.”

Lily feels like she’s breaking out in hives under your eyes, and it’s not a good feeling.

“James told me about how you didn’t know about me, how you wanted him to tell me sooner, didn’t want me to find out from tabloids like you did.” You smiled at her.

“It really hurt me when I found out. I didn’t want you to feel that way, but you still deserved to know. I’m just sorry you found out like that anyway.”

“James already boarded the train, but I wanted to let you know we’re no longer together if you still wanted to be with him,” you said meekly.

Lily’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Godric, no! He’s a git.”

You laughed.

“I know we may not be able to be friends, but maybe it’ll be better if we work through all of this together, all three of us,” Lily proposed.

“Yes, individually, dually, all together, doesn’t matter, it needs to be resolved.”

Lily sighed a breath of relief. “Somehow, I feel lighter.”

“Me too.”

As Lily was about to board the train, you called out to her. “Lily!”

She whipped her head to face you. “We can be friends if you’d like, you know.”

That made Lily smile, and honestly, it made her heart bloom with a vague, but familiar feeling.

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (7/?)

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 1.4k words

Bucky had seen a lot in his life, he wasn't the kind of person that was easily shocked by things, but the way he turned his head towards you was enough to prove him otherwise. Your sister and her husband were looking at him, whereas his eyes were focused on you. You looked at him and pleaded through your gaze for him to go along with your charade, and he did. 

“Um, yes. I'm James,” Bucky stretched his other hand that was free from your grip towards your sister. “Her boyfriend.”

Your sister took his hand excitedly, “I'm Carol, her big sister. I'm so glad she finally has a boyfriend. Most of them don't last a month.”

 “That's not true,” you murmured, hoping no one heard that but, of course, your sister did.

 “Oh yeah, Y/N? What was your longest relationship?”

 “It was more than a month, okay?” you answered, taking a stand for yourself and Carol arched her brow, folding her hands around her chest for you to explain further. 

“41 days,” you stated honestly, your voice dropping an octave with every word you said around your sister. Bucky hated that. He hated that your sister made you feel less about yourself, he hated that this Carol was making the woman he admired feel like shit. He wanted to say something, but your sister started chuckling and your brother-in-law chimed in too. Carol’s husband’s laugh was more out of awkwardness, whereas your sister found amusement in your embarrassed state. 

Bucky tightened his palm around yours, lacing your fingers with his, and turned to look at you. “41 days is more than a month,” he asserted in the most monotonous tone, and all the heads turned towards him. You hated his ‘I don't care’ tone, but the way he was addressing your sister with the same tone made you feel like a teenager crushing on a guy who was out of her league. Because that was the truth, if somehow you ignored the whole boss-employee thing and went out with him, sooner or later, he would have realized he's hotter than you, and he could get someone way better than you. Maybe that's why you said no to him. You'll never know the actual reason. But hey, now he's your pretend boyfriend. Surely, that would not end up in a disaster. 

Your eyes that were hung low, staring at the floor sparkled with glee, and you raised your head to face Bucky. “I know!” you exclaimed, and Bucky couldn't stop the smile that reflected on his face after seeing you grin giddily.

Carol frowned, and your brother-in-law spoke over, sensing the rising tension in the environment. “Honey, I think we should head over to the hotel.”

Your sister didn't say anything further, she glanced at you and then at Bucky before telling you about their schedule and informing you about yours. 

Once your sister left, you dragged Bucky inside your apartment and started pacing around the living room. 

“We have to think of something,” you announced, “You could say you have a work thing and skip going with us.”

 “That's only going to raise suspicion in your sister's eyes.”

“So what do you want me to do, James? Just pretend that we are together?” You raised your voice in frustration, waving your hands dramatically for extra emphasis. 

“Yes,” he answered honestly. Besides the raging crush he had on you, Bucky didn't want you to face your family alone. From what you've told him about them, and now he has seen your sister firsthand, he prefers not to imagine how difficult it must get for you when all of them team up against you. 

You looked at your boss for a second before shaking your head. “I can't ask you to do this for me. You've already done a lot.”

“Well, good because I'm not asking either. It's only one weekend, Y/N. I don't mind it,” he assured you, ”Also, your sister is somewhat entertaining.”

You laughed and at that moment Bucky decided that your laugh is the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. Nobody and nothing compared to the way your eyes sparkled with delight, the way your nose scrunches a little, the way your lips extend and almost reach your ears, the way your hand reaches to cover up your cute snort, and the way your chest rumbles with mirth. You had to be the most beautiful sight ever, Bucky thought. 

“I'm going to pretend that you did not say the last part because then I would have to hate you.”

“Oh, can't have you hating me,” Bucky mocked, pretending to be scared by wrapping his hands around himself and feigning a shiver. You shook your head in amusement, and Bucky relaxed a bit. He was actually petrified. He genuinely can't have you hating him. It would crush him and his little heart. “I think I should go now, I've got to pack for the weekend.”

“Ugh, this is the worst,” you groaned, “I'm going to throw myself out of the window.”

“Wow, my fake girlfriend has a morbid sense of humor,” Bucky teased, making you smile and you waved your hands in dismissal.

“You have a long weekend ahead of you, Mr. Barnes. If I were you, I'd enjoy my sleep while I still can,” you warned, and he snickered before leaving your apartment.  

You exhaled, a smile still lingering on your lips, and you started preparing for the next few days. 

***

You insisted on taking your car, but your sister forced you to travel with them, so now it was you and James seated in the backseat of your sister’s car while she listened to some classical music that you had no knowledge of, and her husband kept his focus on the road. 

“Y/N, last month me and Nick went to this Opera show and it was mind-blowing.”

You were about to say something like ‘cool’ or ‘nice’ with a fake smile, and end the conversation, but she turned to James and pointed her thumb at you. “Can you believe that this one does not enjoy classical music? When we were kids our parents always listened to some good ol' music, but she would come and play some break-up song by a teenager,” she huffed, “Who even listens to Taylor Swift?”

“I do,” you stated, taking offense that your sister was trash-talking about your favorite artist. It was fine when she said shit about you, but you drew a line when she came for Taylor. 

“Of course, you do,” Carol scoffed, shaking her head and looking at your boss/fake boyfriend for assistance in her stance.

 “I agree,” James started, making you frown and close your eyes in exhaustion. Your lips turned downwards while your sister smirked in victory. “I mean, Taylor Swift is not just an artist, she is the music industry. Reputation has to be the best album out there.”

 “Hey, you were singing a Taylor Swift song that day,” he informed you, and you merely nodded, that night was still a blur in your head.

Carol’s smile faltered, realizing she won't get your partner's support, and you looked at James only to find him already looking at you with pure adoration in his eyes. Your breath hitched and involuntarily your hand went to his, and he quickly held on to it tightly but gently, raising your hand to drop a feather-like kiss on your knuckles. 

This, with him, didn't feel like pretending. Everything with James felt so real that you had to remind yourself that you barely knew the man, and he is actually not your boyfriend. That didn't stop your mind from making up scenes and imagining what if this was real. This felt normal, usual but this also made you feel this weird sensation in your chest and caused a flush in your eyes and it was just the start of the weekend. 

You didn't realize it at the moment but you were up for the most amazing and devastating weekend of your life. 

⁓⁓

A/N- This is more of a filler chapter. Also, Bucky is a swiftie and you can't tell me otherwise haha. I hope you enjoyed it. Take care!!

TAGS: @bananapipedreams @akkinda10 @rivers-rambles21 @emmabarnes @goodcleanfunsis @valsworldofcreativity @boofy1998 @marvel-3407​

[gra-sonas]

Michael Trevino stars as Kyle Valenti on The CW’s Roswell, New Mexico. For episode 4×09, “Wild Wild West,” the actor also serves as director. The series, which originally premiered in 2019, is now in its fourth and final season. New episodes of the sci-fi drama air Mondays at 8pm ET/PT. 

I had a wonderful time speaking with Trevino about directing such a memorable episode, this season’s big moments between Isobel and Kyle, the impact that Roswell, New Mexico has in terms of representation, the series finale, and much more. Keep reading for our full conversation!

Huge congrats on directing this episode. It came out fantastic. What was your favorite part of directing this particular episode because it’s a very fun one with the whole Wild West elements? Michael Trevino: Great question. Yes, I was so very lucky because these writers wrote such a huge episode. So as much as that was exciting, it scared the hell out of me. I had to do that much more work in prep. As far as my part, wow– it would probably be the most difficult part, which is not one specific one, but there are a lot of stunts and in the stunts, there’s a lot of gun gags with the fights, a lasso, and people dropping dead, frankly. So in shooting those stunts, I think, because those are so complicated, when we finally get it right, it’s a great feeling.

I really love Liz and Kyle’s friendship and the bond that they have. So I wanted to talk about the speech that Liz made to Kyle in this episode, even if he was a horse at the time. What do you think makes their relationship so special and strong? Well, because he has still always had her back, she’s had his, and over the course of four seasons, even if they’ve had distance apart, they’d never skip a beat. They’re just both really down for each other, I think. So in those moments, we see Liz struggle throughout this episode and although Kyle is there, but also not there, I think just like she said, Kyle is a rock in her life.

I hope you don’t mind but I have to go back a few episodes because I spoke with Lily Cowles about this and I have to get your reaction as well. We got some really amazing Kyle and Isobel content. I mean, they kissed, they slept together… Yes, finally! I’ve been waiting four years for it. But yes, please ask your question.

What was your reaction to all of that? What is your hope for what happens with them going forward? Obviously, you know what actually happens, but can you give any teasers? We did have Isobel kind of talk a little bit about it with Maria, which I was thrilled about. Yes, well, my reaction is finally, I’ve been waiting four years for this to happen. But good things, they come to those who wait, and I do love that in our story, we’ve always hinted and pieced it for our audience, we didn’t just jump right into it. So I feel that it was gained, it was warranted, it was deserved, this relationship that they have. Of course, once we get to a moment of like, “oh, this is perfect,” it ends up maybe being not so perfect and I like that too because that is life. Nothing is what it seems and so, I like where we’re at with Kyle and Isobel. As far as the future for them both, I feel that in our Roswell world, there are outside circumstances that are going to bring them together just as much as it’s going to pull them apart, and that makes for great television. So that’s stuff we want to see.

I love that you and Lily had the same “finally” reaction. I just needed to point that out. Oh, is that what she said? Thank God, because I didn’t know.

She did, and she also said how wonderful you are to work with. You got a lot of praise. She was just as excited as you were that we’re finally getting them together. Yeah, we have a special bond. She’s so great.

So I am Latina and this show is one that I have found such immense comfort in, it’s such a big one for representation. I can’t remember the last time I saw a Latina lead or just Latinx characters that are actually complex and well written. I’m devastated that the show is coming to an end, but I know I’ll be rewatching it. What kind of legacy do you hope that it has for those who have felt seen through these characters? Oh, I know it has, I already know the impact of just the faces that you see on the screen, their families. For me, I’ve been in this business for a long time and this is the first role where I’ve been able to speak Spanish as a main character on network television. So that’s been — for me, that’s something I’m very, very proud of. With that as well, we talk about the Michael and Alex relationship, which has been such a huge, huge part of our story, so much so that I think it’s like our “A” storyline. People have gravitated towards that. It’s been well received and such a strong response on the internet to that, and we’re a part of it. We are very deliberate in that but free at the same time with exploring their relationships. I don’t think the scenes that they had together would have been written five years ago. I don’t think they would have been written and now it’s nice to see that this is a new normal.

In your wildest dreams, in your mind, what would Kyle’s dream ending be beyond the show? What would you like for him outside of the finale? Oh, wow. I’ve never been asked that. That’s such a good question. Maybe it’s Isobel, maybe it isn’t, but I think Kyle starts a family. So he settles down, starts a family, and family is what keeps him at work and at home, and that’s it. He’s not out, putting out all these fires or saving people’s lives, except for at work. I think that he has started a family, has kids, and has his mother around, so bringing her back into town. I’d love to see that.

I know you can’t give too much away here, but did you feel satisfied with this season’s finale as the show’s ending? Do you think fans will feel satisfied with it? Are you excited for them to see it and how everything finishes? It’s interesting because at the time we were shooting, the feeling around set was we were gonna get one more season. That’s the honest truth. We all were on board that we’re gonna get one more out of this — one more, not two. We’ll get one more, we’ll end it at five seasons. The way it was written and the way it ends, now that we know it’s not getting a season five, I think it’s 50/50. I think half the fans are gonna be happy with like, “Well, they didn’t know this was the last season but this still puts an ending to this chapter, to this season four.” Then I think there’s gonna be the other half, you know, the other 50% of fans who aren’t happy with this ending, and I will say that because as much as this is an end to this chapter, in our last scenes, what happens to our lead characters, you can very much become the beginning of two or three more seasons, but we’ll never see that. So I’ll leave it at that because I think it’ll be split, but we could have easily gone two or three more seasons with how this season ends because there’s a lot more worlds to be explored.

Yeah, trust me, we all wanted it. I have to say most of my favorite characters are ones that have a great evolution or just a beautiful growth arc, and I feel like Kyle is a perfect example of that. I mean, from where we see him in the flashbacks to now being everyone’s person, what was that like for you to bring to life and really portray that growth rather than just be stuck in one box? It was such a gift because I’m somebody who has been on other TV series where it’s a certain storyline and I’m working with the same actors the whole season, which is fine, but this was such a gift for me being part of this show because I was a part of every storyline and I was an important part of every storyline. It was nice that on our show, we do have leads but this was really an ensemble. I mean, everybody had the same amount of screen time, the characters’ storylines weaved into one another, and so it just felt like an ensemble cast and story. So I’m really happy about that but also for me to play a character who is grounded. I couldn’t get too far away from all the sci-fi and supernatural elements and beings in my career, but I will say having still being just a human being, it was a very nice feeling.

[cacoetheswriting]

hell or high water

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings: angst, possible tfatws spoilers, swearing, dealing with emotions / comforting, mutual pining, a lil fluff, & mentions of john walker [yes, i’m adding that as a warning] word count: 1.5k summary: unexpected, and rather devastating news, bring you and bucky together.

-

The calm before the storm - a period of unusual tranquillity and stability that often foreshadowed grave and difficult times.

The calm before the storm. That’s how you would describe what was happening during this moment, as you propped yourself up on the chair, silently observing Bucky for any sort of reaction to the breaking headline currently being shared on every single news channel.

John Walker. The new Captain America.

Bucky’s face was blank, although by now you’ve gotten to know him well enough to understand what the expression, or lack thereof, meant. He was irritated - no - he was fucking pissed. And truthfully, he had every right to be.

“I liked that what I was doing would make people feel safe. Steve Rogers was the kind of guy who could do that, he gave me hope. Even though I never met him, he feels like a brother.” John Walker’s voice sounded through the shitty speakers.

Bucky’s heart sank at the words. He smacked his lips together and exhaled.

“Hey, uhm… are you okay?” You asked in a hushed tone, eyes glued to the side of his face, nervously chewing down on your bottom lip. It was a really stupid question since you already knew the answer. Of course he wasn’t okay. Far from it, actually. In your eyes however, it was always better to check anyway. 

Especially since the man sitting on the cool ground only an arms length away from you wasn’t one to open up freely.

Bucky grunted in response, followed by a deep sigh.

“Just… peachy.” He huffed, before switching the tv off and sliding a hand down his face, wiping away any lone tears that may have escaped.

His response caused your heart to clench inside of your chest. You wanted to ease any pain the unexpected news caused him, but you weren’t exactly sure how. You felt extremely helpless, and from where you sat you could tell he was feeling the exact same - however, for different reasons.

His powerlessness was primarily fueled by anger.

And Bucky was aware the dangerous emotions circulating through his veins was undoubtedly stemming from heartbreak. Sorrow for everything he lost. Grief for the only family he had left.

Prior to meeting you, Steve was the only person that accepted him for who he was. Cherished him despite the many flaws and mistakes he’s made over the years. The only person in this whole damn universe who could easily separate him from his dark and troubled past. The only person who didn’t just see him as The Winter Soldier, a ruthless killing machine.

No.

Prior to meeting you, Steve was the only person who truly and earnestly believed Bucky was a good person.

And now Bucky had to witness Captain America being formally replaced. As if Steve Rogers was nothing. As if he meant nothing.

Which is why, as the dark-haired man stared at his own hollow reflection in the blank television screen, he was glad you entered his life when you did.

His gaze trailed to the outline of your silhouette and a small smile circled his lips. Knowing that you were here for him. Knowing that it was no longer only Steve who wholeheartedly believed he was genuine and kind… He felt better.

You could see him looking at you through the black display. You could see the miniscule smile present on his features, and you couldn’t help but return the expression.

Soon enough you were up on your feet, gracefully moving from the rather uncomfortable chair to the even more uncomfortable floor next to Bucky. You placed your head on his shoulder and his whole body instantly relaxed at your proximity, at your gentle and soothing touch. His eyes locked with yours through the monitor and you could clearly make out the gratitude, the adoration.

Yes. For a brief moment, a split second, Bucky felt better.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, bringing your knees closer to your chest and wrapping one arm tightly around to hold them in place. “I’m sorry this is happening. I know it’s not what you wanted, and… I know it’s now what Steve wanted.”

“Don’t apologise.” Bucky was quick to contravene.

You just shrugged, your head still resting against him. “Well, the people that made this decision, the people that should apologise most definitely won’t, and it seems like something you need to hear. A simple apology.”

He huffed lightly, once again feeling grateful he had someone like you to ground him. God, if you weren’t here… No. No. He stopped himself and shook the disturbing thoughts away. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because you were here, and you weren’t going anywhere.

He swallowed.

But he was. He had no other choice.

“I- uh… I need to go, y/n. I need to find Sam. I need to talk to him and get some answers.”

“I know.” You stated simply, however there was a detectable hint of sadness in the tone of your voice. Bucky picked up on it immediately and he shifted in his position, so that he was now looking down at you.

His gaze burned into the side of your skull, lip quivering as he searched his mind for what to say next because he hated this. Hated it came to this. And you hated it too.

You began to feel guilty. If you weren’t in his life, he wouldn’t have this problem. He wouldn’t have you to worry about. He wouldn’t need to explain himself. There would be nothing holding him back.

Fuck, you thought, life was just starting to get easier.

Swallowing the growing lump at the back of your throat, you mustered up enough courage to face him. The amiable look in his eyes caused the butterflies in your stomach to flutter momentarily.

“But you’ll come back.” It wasn’t a request. It was a fact. Corners of your lips twirled into a timid smile, yet all Bucky could focus on were the tears you were trying really hard to fight back.

Slowly, he nodded his head. How could he not come back? All you did these last few months was make him a little bit happier. He could only dream to one day return the favour, because as smart as Bucky Barnes was, he had no idea he already made you the happiest you’d ever been.

“I’ll come back.” He reassured.

“Alive.”

He chuckled softly before repeating, “Alive.”

Lifting your hand, you tenderly brushed your fingers down his cheek and across his jawline. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he leaned into your touch. It shouldn’t have, but it did. Because as you held his face in the palm of your hand while he studied every inch of yours, the uncertainty of when you would see each other again gradually settling in, you realised you’ve never been this close to one another.

You thought perhaps you should pull back, that this was a little too close for comfort, but you found yourself unable to move. Frozen. Completely captivated by the handsome man situated in front of you.

It should have felt weird, the intimacy of the moment. It should have felt weird. Why, why didn’t it feel weird? Bucky was your neighbour. He was your friend. There was nothing else to your relationship. Nothing… more.

But as you stared deeply into his eyes, taking note of the warm expression he was presenting as he continued to scan your face, the air hitched in your throat. 

It felt natural.

Bucky sensed it too. He sensed the change in the atmosphere around the two of you. Unfamiliar, yet not unwelcoming. Quite the opposite actually. It drew him in. He found himself slowly leaning in, and like a magnet, you followed suit.

When his mouth eventually slanted over yours, your heart skipped a beat.

The kiss was gentle at first, as if Bucky was indicating you could stop him at any given time, if you wanted too. It wouldn’t take much to push him away and end this now. But you didn’t want to stop him. Instead, you closed your eyes at the desirable sensation igniting every single cell in your body.

Any boundary the two of you had previously unspokenly set was crossed, broken. However, it didn’t seem to matter to either of you.

The hand previously cupping Bucky’s cheek, was now gripping at his hair. Both of his hands were now holding your waist - not applying too much pressure, but making it known that they were there.

You wanted to comment how he very rarely touched you with his metal arm, always weary that he may somehow hurt you, and now he was latched onto you in a way that suggested he would never let you go, but his tongue wound its way between your parted lips, breaking you away from your thoughts.

After what felt like a blissful eternity, you pulled away simultaneously. Equally flushed and equally breathless. Smiling at one another like a couple of love-struck idiots.

“Hmm.. We can continue this when you’re back.” You whispered against his puffed lips, before pecking them softly.

Bucky smirked. He lifted his right arm and gently brushed loose strands of your hair behind your ear. “Don’t you worry, y/n.” He began, “Come hell or high water, I’ll definitely be back.”

-

masterlist

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Dark Fury

Prompts: I love your writing, and while rereading "Embrace Of Darkness" I noticed that Roman mentioned Remus visits him sometimes, and that if it didn't mean leaving Patton alone Roman would destroy the being that hurt him. That gave me an idea I would like to present to you as a prompt: Remus meeting Patton when he comes to visit Roman, and then absolutely demolishing that monster when he finds out what he did to the precious human?? - anon

In Embrace of Darkness, Roman considers the possibility that his brother might have come to visit; does Remus ever meet Patton? - anon

Read on Ao3 Masterlist

Warnings: some allusion to past trauma

Pairings: intruality, royalilty, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 4833

Humans are such…fascinating. And so emotional, aren’t they? Unfortunately for Patton, some creatures that don’t understand emotions want to…experiment.

Humans can be so fragile.

…and capable of a kind of strength those creatures could only dream of.

“Brave one?”

Patton turns, wings twitching slightly toward his back as Roman walks closer. He indicates the spot next to him and Patton nods.

“Hi.”

“Hello.” Roman sits down next to him. “How are you today?”

Patton shrugs. “Fine, I think? It’s…I’m still not used to these.”

His wings twitch and Roman chuckles, leaning against the tree behind them. “I can imagine…I can’t tell you how difficult it was trying to figure out this.”

He lifts his arms and lets them drop into his lap. The look of baffled disgust on his face makes Patton giggle. He leans over and nudges his shoulder.

“Thanks.”

“Mm.” Roman reaches up, waiting until Patton nods to card a hand through his hair. “Do they hurt at all, or are they just unfamiliar?”

“More unfamiliar than painful, but, uh…”

“But what, brave one?”

“It’s hard for me to…groom them,” Patton mumbles, hands twisted together in his lap, “I can’t reach all the way back.”

Beside him, Roman lets out a breath. “That…surprisingly relates to what I wanted to ask you.”

“Huh?”

Roman turns to face him. “How would you feel if we had a visitor?”

The hairs on the back of Patton’s neck stand up. “A…visitor?”

“Yes, brave one, my brother.”

Patton’s wings twitch. “Your…you have a brother?”

Roman sighs, leaning against the tree. “Words…words are difficult, brave one, I have—I have what mortals would call a brother.”

“No, no, it’s—it’s fine, I get words being hard, I just…” He swallows. “I’m just…surprised, I guess? I don’t know—what does that mean?”

“What does it mean that he’s my brother, or—?”

“What would him visiting be like?”

“Because we’re…brothers,” Roman says slowly, “he can move into my space in a way that no one else can. So he would be able to…make another body like this—“

He gestures to himself.

“—and come to the islands.”

“So it’d be like meeting another person?”

“Yes, just another person.”

“Oh.”

Roman watches him as he looks away, brow furrowed in thought. It might be nice to meet someone else. Not that he’s unsatisfied with Roman! Roman is wonderful, but just one other person can be a little…boring. He winces as he thinks the word and Roman, sweet and wonderful Roman catches it, immediately reaching out in concern.

“Brave one? Brave one, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not hurt,” he mutters, waving him off, “I just…thought of—I was—my brain was being mean.”

“To you?”

Patton shakes his head, cheeks burning with shame. “To you.”

“Ah, I see.” He lays a hand on the ground, palm up. “Would you like me to reassure you that it’s alright?”

He chuckles when Patton shamelessly grabs his hand and squeezes.

“What happened?”

“I was thinking about how you’re the only other person I, um, well, spend time with right now.”

“…I don’t see how that’s mean, brave one.”

“…I thought it was a bit boring.”

Roman hums, a small smile spreading across his face. “Ah, yes, truly the most devastating of insults that you could summon, hmm?”

“Don’t,” he pouts, lightly shoving his shoulder even as Roman laughs.

“I won’t, I won’t, brave one, I’m sorry.” He squeezes Patton’s hand. “It’s alright, that’s nothing to fret over. But you’re right, mortals should engage with more than just one other person. Which is why I thought to bring it up with you.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks.”

Roman chuckles, leaning a little closer to murmur conspiratorially. “To be honest, brave one, he’s been bringing it up ever since he realized I was using a smaller form.”

“Wait, he can sense that?”

“We’re connected, brave one, we can sense things about each other. Relative…power levels, I think, is the best way to put it.”

“Oh. That’s cool.”

“Mm.” Roman’s thumb plays idly over the back of his knuckles. “You don’t have to give me an answer right now, brave one, I understand this is a bit of an ask.”

“So I can think about it?”

“Of course you can. Would you like me to leave you alone while you think?”

“Can we go for a walk?”

Roman smiles and stands, tugging Patton up with him. “Where would you like to go?”

“Can we go to the cliffs?”

“Of course.”

The cliffs are a set of bluffs on top of a waterfall, falling from another island high above Patton’s head. The water falls through the air into another pool, much larger than the pink lake, spilling and spilling into the distance. It sparkles in the sunlight, now beginning to turn gold as it sets.

Explaining circadian rhythms to an eldritch being had been an adventure.

Patton finds his mouth curling up into a smile as he sits on the grass, watching the water. He’s distantly aware of Roman’s warmth next to him as he sits down, offering him something to lean against.

What would it be like to have someone else visit? Patton won’t lie; one of the things that’s helped him the most is the knowledge that he was unequivocally safe when Roman was around. Not just because Roman has powers that he could not and will not try to fully comprehend, but because it was only ever Roman. This pocket dimension was for him, just for him, and Roman would come and spend time with him as often as he liked. He was safe. No one else would dare come and try to get him.

…and maybe no small part of him is thrilled at having uninterrupted time with one of the most attractive people he’s ever seen.

And Roman said, when they first met, Roman said he got lonely sometimes. Patton’s heart had ached when he heard that—of course, it had been aching for several reasons that he’d rather not remember right now—and being able to stay and grow this friendship had been…sweet.

But it’s only Roman. Roman, who knows most of Patton’s stories by now, who understands the things he doesn’t need to say anymore to do exactly what Patton needs. Who is caring and gentle and kind and will always, always ask, never doing something Patton isn’t comfortable with.

…it might be nice to meet someone else. Just to see them, just to—for enrichment purposes. And it’s going to be Roman’s brother, right? Will he look the same as Roman? Or—rather, will he choose to look like Roman? What if he doesn’t look like a human at all, what if he picks another form?

Patton suppresses a shudder, tucking his head into the crook of Roman’s neck under the guise of being cold. Roman lets out a soft noise and places a hand in the small of his back.

Roman is the second eldritch being Patton’s met. The first was…

Capsaicin laced through his tongue. Salt burning in the corners of his eyes. His body twisting down, down, down into endless darkness.

…traumatizing.

As if sensing the wave of memories—which he’s not entirely dismissing at this point—Roman lets out another soft hum, turning and resting his head against Patton’s. His warm breath puffs over his forehead and Patton closes his eyes, nudging his head up for a kiss. Roman chuckles and presses his mouth to his temple.

“My brave one.”

Roman is kind. Roman is—is—

Patton struggles to come up with any words other than ‘perfect.’

But he is, he’s been so good when it comes to helping Patton heal. And it really is healing, it’s not just learning how to deal with things and feeling better, it’s understanding that he’s safe now, learning how to get back into his body, learning how to ask for help and comfort and space when he needs it.

But that doesn’t erase the small part of him that worries about others.

The first was a nightmare. Roman is a dream. What are others like?

Maybe that’s why Roman asked about his brother visiting. If Patton’s lonely or bored, or to make sure he knows that no other eldritch being would dare hurt him like that, or…

“Roman?”

“Mm?”

“What—when I said I was having trouble with my wings, how did that relate to you asking about your brother?”

“Oh, that’s right.” Roman shifts a little to make their position more comfortable. “My brother spends a lot more time experimenting with different forms than I do—when I find something that works, I stick with it.”

“Like…” Patton shyly squeezes Roman’s shoulder. “This?”

Roman chuckles, reaching out and pressing Patton’s hand to his chest. “Like this, yes. This form seems to work just fine for you and me both, so I keep it.”

“And your brother…”

“Likes to play around with what shapes he can make.” Roman rolls his eyes. “He can be very dramatic about it.”

“Dramatic?”

“Oh, one time he insisted on spending an eternity with horns and antlers growing out of tentacles and a head shaped like a ball of stars.”

Patton blinks. “That’s…an image.”

“Quite.”

“He won’t—if he comes, he won’t look like that, right?”

“Sit up a little?” Roman cups his face as they pull back to look at each other. “If he comes, Patton, if you’re alright with him coming, he will be on his best behavior.”

“Really?”

“Yes, brave one, really. In part, because he will be curious as to what has captivated my attention so completely—oh, what’s this for?”

He runs a finger down Patton’s bright red cheek.

“N-nothing.”

“Mm?”

“Stop,” Patton whines as Roman smiles, unable to hide a smile of his own. Roman just laughs.

“Sorry, brave one, but it’s true.” He sobers. “And second, because I will tell him to be. He is—well, he can be a bit brash and the last thing I want is for you to be hurt.”

Oh. Oh, wow.

“So he might know how to help with my wings?”

“Yes, he most certainly will.”

Patton’s quiet for a moment longer, then he looks up. “I think I’d like to meet him.”

A hopeful light crosses Roman’s face. “You would?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that, brave one,” Roman murmurs, leaning forward to bring him into a hug, “and I’m sure he will too.”

“When…when is he coming?”

Roman hums, looking up at the sky as it slowly fades from blue to purple to pink near the horizon. “Will it be better for you if he comes sooner or later?”

“…sooner, I think.”

“How about in three more sunrises?”

“That sounds good.”

“I’ll let him know.” Roman smiles and squeezes the nape of his neck. “Thank you, brave one, for being open to the idea.”

“Thanks for suggesting it.”

“Would you like to stay here a little longer? It’s going to start to get cold now that the light is fading, but I can keep you warm if you want to stay.”

“I’m tired, I think you’d have to carry me back if we stayed out much longer.”

Roman chuckles. “As if that’s such a hardship.”

Patton sighs happily and snuggles into Roman’s chest. “Then stay. I want to watch the stars.”

“As you wish, brave one.”

——————

Patton’s hands twitch on the colored orb as he sits on the bench. The breeze blows gently through his feathers, sending little shivers down his spine as he turns the orb over and over in his hands. Watching the colors twist and bleed together is soothing, as is the cool smooth surface.

Roman’s brother is coming today. Roman had left him the night before saying he would be here when the big hand of the clock touched the 10. Patton had woken up at 9 and eaten breakfast, coming out to wait on the bench and a quarter to.

He slightly regrets not asking for Roman to come by before, just to reassure him that everything would be alright.

A door opens behind him.

“Whoa, this place is colorful.”

“I told you you’d appreciate it.”

“Yeah, definitely. You been hanging out around mortal realms without telling me again?”

“No, just paying attention.”

“Wow. Cold.”

That must be Roman’s brother. Patton turns, looking over his shoulder to see another figure standing next to Roman. He’s wearing green where Roman wears red and there are several black tentacles twitching out of his back. It’s rude to stare, so he tries not to.

But he can’t stop the rush of chill down his spine as he watches them twitch.

It’s not them. It’s not them. It’s Roman’s brother, Roman is here too.

Just then, Roman turns and spots him looking. A soft smile crosses his face and he waves. Patton waves back as the other figure turns.

Oh. Oh, he does look like Roman. Not quite exactly the same, but enough for them to be brothers. Instead of brown hair, his is black with a single white stripe. He also has a mustache.

“Is that him?”

“Yes,” Roman says with enough fondness to make Patton’s cheeks redden from all the way over here, “that’s him.”

“You didn’t say he was that pretty.”

Oh. Oh, no. Not now, gay panic.

“Didn’t I? It must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Mm. You gonna introduce me or what?”

“Okay, okay, be patient, come on.”

They start to walk toward him. Patton sits up, stuffs the orb in his pocket, and stands to meet them, walking closer. They’re both a little taller than him and when he gets closer, his wings start to unconsciously reach for the tentacles probing curiously at the air around them.

“Patton,” Roman says, “this is my brother.”

“Remus,” he says, holding out a hand, “call me Remus.”

Patton takes his hand and shakes it, watching Remus’s smile widen. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing, just—“ Remus gives himself a shake— “it’s been a while since I’ve met someone who’s not like me.”

“Like you?”

Remus gestures to the tentacles. “Schlorpy.”

“Sch—what?”

“Changeable,” Roman murmurs, “formless.”

“Oh.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with having a meat sack,” Remus says quickly, shaking his arms to demonstrate, “it’s just…well, they’re a little restrictive once you get used to not having a shape.”

Unbidden, a giggle rises in Patton’s throat. “Are you rediscovering the joys of being subject to gravity?”

Remus groans. “Don’t even get me started. You know how difficult it is to balance on these things? And your center of mass is way off, what even is that?”

He giggles again. “Have you realized how stupid spines are?”

“I wanna have words with whoever made your design, I know we all make choices, but they made some choices.”

Roman just watches them with a smile. “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t have to worry about the two of you getting along.”

“Nah, bro, we’re good.” Remus winks at Patton only for his eyes to widen as Patton begins to blush again. “Whoa, what is that?”

Which, of course, only makes Patton blush harder.

“No, seriously, is something…wrong? What’s happening?” Remus glances at Roman. “Ro, what’s happening?”

“Patton’s blushing, Remus,” Roman says in a voice that’s probably not meant to be teasing but wriggles under his skin all the same, “that’s all. It’s not hurting him.”

“Huh.” Remus tilts his head, staring at him with an intensity that just, you know, makes the blush worse. “Is it unconscious? Are you doing it on purpose?”

“No,” Patton mumbles, hands twitching at his sides, “I’m fine.”

“Can I—sorry,” Remus says quickly holding up his hands as Roman shoots a sharp look at him, “may I come closer?”

No, you’ll make it worse, you’re too pretty. “Sure.”

“Thanks.”

And Remus just…walks up to him. Looking at his blush. Nervous giggles bubble up in his throat as Remus smiles.

“What? Am I being funny?”

“N-no, you’re—you’re—I’m just—“

“You’re really warm, Patton,” Remus says, quieter now, “are you sure it’s not hurting you?”

“It’s just blood rushing to my face, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Blood rushing to your face?” Remus draws back in alarm. “What’s wrong with your face?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just—“

“Remus,” Roman says sharply, “be gentle.”

“I’m trying to understand what’s going on so I don’t break your human, Roro!”

“It’s fine,” Patton says quickly before this can devolve into any sort of shouting match, “I’m just—okay, blushing happens when I’m embarrassed or flustered or scared, it’s an unconscious response, it doesn’t hurt me, and you’re both fine.”

They settle, even as Roman hovers a little closer than strictly necessary as Remus nods. “Wait, so which is it right now?”

Patton sighs. “…flustered.”

“Why?”

Another sigh, deeper. “Because you’re both very pretty and I’m only used to Roman right now.”

Roman chuckles as Remus blinks. And oh, oh, now Remus is turning red. He raises his hands and paws at his face, frowning.

“It’s warm,” he mutters, “it’s like…really warm. But it doesn’t feel bad. And this is because you said I was pretty?”

“Mhm.”

“Interesting,” Remus mumbles through a blush strong enough to rival Patton’s, “well, uh, thanks for that.”

Then his eyes land on the white feathers over Patton’s shoulders.

“Are these what you needed grooming help for?”

Patton nods a little sheepishly, reaching out to toy with one of the loose feathers. “I don’t—I’m still not used to them and I don’t have the benefit of being a non-shape to get to them.”

Remus hums, a hand extending. “Can I—may I?”

Patton nods, reaching out to grab one of Roman’s hands as Remus slowly runs a finger down the curve of the wings. Patton catches Roman’s eye and he mouths ‘okay?’ Patton nods and Roman raises his hand to kiss the back of it.

“They look good to me,” Remus says, drawing their attention back, “but I can see why you might want help. There’s only so much you’re gonna be able to do by yourself, but I’m sure Roro will be more than happy to help you out.”

Roman squeezes his hand.

“Do you want me to show you now, or…are we doing other stuff first?”

“Other stuff?” Patton looks at Roman. “What other stuff?”

“Remus asked to see the rest of the islands,” Roman explains, “or at least some of them. I was thinking the cliffs, perhaps, and the flower field?”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I ask because grooming my wings makes me really tired,” Remus says, a softer undercurrent to his voice now, “and you, uh, might fall asleep right after we’re done.”

“Then yeah, let’s do the other stuff first.”

Remus, as it turns out, is much less worried about walking on the bridges between the islands than Patton or Roman. Instead, he stretches out his tentacles and practically swings between them, even when the bridges stretch longer than Patton can see. He stays close enough to chat, tossing meaningless barbs back and forth with Roman and asking Patton questions about what it’s like living with Roman, what he does, what goes in a kitchen.

“So you have an entire room just devoted to food?” He hums as the bridge sways under their feet. “That sounds like a good idea. All the other mortals I’ve visited just eat wherever.”

“How many other mortals have you visited?”

“None like this, I just stick my head into their realms sometimes.” Remus gestures to his head. “Well, kind of. Not this one. My—a head of sorts.”

“Got it.”

They end up sitting by the cliffs for a while and moving on to the rolling field of flowers. Patton sits by a large clump of daisies and starts to make a flower crown, immediately prompting Remus to plop next to him and prop his chin up on his hands, watching intently. When Patton finishes and carefully balances it on Remus’s brow, he smiles and reaches up to touch it.

“Can you teach me how to do that?”

“Sure.”

Roman ends up with several flower crowns piled on top of his head. Patton’s smile is cut off by a yawn and Roman’s quick to catch him as he lists to one side.

“Tired, brave one?”

“Mhm.”

“Let’s head back, then,” Remus suggests, standing, “I can show you how to groom your wings.”

They settle in the grove, under the trees as pink and white petals fall down around them. As Patton makes himself comfortable, Remus directs Roman to sit behind him, checking to make sure Patton’s alright with it, before sitting to his side.

“This okay?”

“I, um, I can’t really see you.”

“Is that a problem?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Here.” Remus shifts so he’s sitting mostly in front of Patton but can lean over his shoulder to see Roman’s hands. “Is that better?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m right here, brave one,” Roman murmurs as Patton reaches back, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, “right here.”

“Thanks.”

“The thing about grooming wings is you want to make sure all the feathers are aligned properly and oiled,” Remus says, his voice dropping into something quieter, “and that there’s nothing stuck in them. Dirt, detritus, old feathers that you’ve shed, that sort of thing.”

“Okay.”

“Has anyone ever touched your wings?”

“N-not unless you count this part.” Patton tugs lightly on the very edges of the wings he can reach.

“Okay. It’s gonna feel a bit weird at first, especially since one, you’re not used to changing shape, and two, there’s gonna be a whole bunch of sensitive spots your brain isn’t really gonna know what to do with.”

“Do you remember what to do,” Roman asks softly, “if it’s too much and you need me to stop?”

Patton knocks twice on a branch by his leg.

“Good, brave one.”

“I’m gonna have Roman start now,” Remus says, still quiet and careful, “you don’t have to try and stay awake if you don’t want to, it’s really Roman I’m giving this lecture to, but you let us know if something goes wrong, okay?”

“Okay.” Patton reaches back and gives Roman’s hand a quick squeeze. “I’m ready.”

“Ro?”

“Mhm?”

“I want you to start at the top of the wing where the primaries are.”

“Here?” Roman’s hands land warm and solid on the very tops of Patton’s wings. The sudden rush of sensation makes him shudder. “You alright, brave one?”

“Mhm, just—really warm.”

“Yes, there. Now run your fingers carefully through the feathers, almost like you’re trying to comb them out. That should straighten the ones that need to be straightened and let you know if there are any loose ones.”

In the same way that having fingers carded through his hair makes his scalp tingle pleasantly, the feeling of Roman’s fingers working patiently and thoroughly through his wings makes Patton’s back come alight. New nerve endings perk up as Roman brushes them, the shudders making the tips of his wings tremble.

“Good. Now start to work your way out. Mind the alulae, those are gonna be real sensitive.”

“The where?”

“There, see the little tufts?”

“Yes, so don’t touch them?”

“Well, we’re gonna have to, but not right now. Try and get through all the secondaries first, right to the wingtip, then we’ll see about those. We have to check the muscles anyway.”

“Patton?” Roman’s voice appears next to his ear. “Are you doing alright, dear one?”

“Mm,” he mumbles, a little drunk on sensation, “mhm.”

“He’s really pretty.”

“Remus, not now.”

“Okay, okay. Now we need to check the muscles.”

“Should these function like pretty much every muscled limb?”

“Yep. So you’re checking to see if all the tendons are in place, if there’s any pain.”

Roman’s hands run smooth and firm along the length of each wing, sending more little shivers down Patton’s spine.

“It feels good.”

“What’s that, brave one?”

“This,” he mumbles again, “feels good.”

Roman chuckles. “I’m glad, brave one.”

“You doing okay?” Remus’s hand appears gently under his chin. “Sorry—should’ve asked—but are you good?”

“’S okay,” Patton mumbles, fumbling for his hand and bringing it back, “yeah, ‘m good.”

A thumb strokes gently over his jaw. “I’m glad. I’m gonna have Roman check your alulae now, okay? It’s gonna feel a little sharper, you tell us if there’s something wrong, yeah?”

“I will.”

Roman’s hands gentle stroke over the alulae and oh, Remus wasn’t kidding about sharper. It’s not enough to hurt, just enough to feel weird. Like someone running their fingers over the inside of his elbow or knee.

“They feel alright to you?”

“Yes, nothing broken or twisted.”

“The feathers look okay from here too, alright, good. Let’s get them oiled.”

“Do we need oil?”

“No, his wings will produce it by themselves. You just need to find the oil gland.”

“Where is that?”

“Hang on.” Remus’s hand leaves Patton’s chin and he calls his name. “Patton, I need you to look at me for a moment.”

Patton looks up. Remus’s brow is furrowed now, concern written over his face. “Is something wrong?”

“No, Patton, nothing’s wrong. I’m just—I need to tell you that your oil glands are going to be really sensitive. It’s gonna be a lot. I don’t want you to be surprised by it.”

The concern flutters warmly in his chest as he nods.

“Okay. Ro?” Roman hums over his shoulder. “I need you to be really careful.”

“That sounds like what I said to you.”

“Okay, maybe you weren’t exaggerating when you said this was the most precious thing you’ve seen in a millennium, okay?”

“Wait,” Patton mumbles, “Roman said what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Roman huffs, even as he rubs soothing circles into Patton’s back, “where am I looking, Remus?”

“Right down—yeah, there. Reach into the feathers, you should feel a little nub where the oil is.”

A thumb swipes over a spot beneath Patton’s feathers and a gasp tears out of his throat.

“Brave one?”

“Patton, you okay?”

No, Patton is most certainly not okay because every single nerve is alight and buzzing and Roman’s hands are so warm and a high-pitched keen leaves his throat.

“That’s what I meant by sensitive,” Remus murmurs, “you okay? You need a break?”

“N-no, it’s fine, I just—“ Patton’s breath shudders out of him. “That was a lot.”

“I know, little one, I know.”

“Keep going.”

Roman carefully collects the oil and begins to spread it through the wings. Patton understands a bit more now about why Remus said he was free to fall asleep if he needed to; he’s not sure he can keep his eyes open as waves of warmth rush through him.

Distantly, he hears them murmur about finishing up, making sure a joint isn’t too tight or the muscles in his back aren’t straining, but all he can focus on is the warm, warm hands on his back and in his wings and the gentle current of the low voices lulling him to sleep.

“Hush, brave one,” comes Roman’s gentle voice as he whimpers when the hands leave his wings, “I’m right here, you did wonderfully. Your wings look magnificent.”

“They do,” he hears Remus say, “thank you for letting me help.”

Patton mumbles, a little too far gone for words, reaching out and grasping for Remus’s hand. He catches it and squeezes gently.

“You can go to sleep now, little one,” he murmurs, “it was nice to meet you. I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

Yes, Patton thinks as he dozes off in Roman’s arms, I hope so too.

——————

Remus’s rage stays quiet until he remerges from Roman’s space. Then it unfurls, coiling around his space and building until it is a tidal wave terrifying to behold.

Roman cannot leave his space, cannot abandon his precious charge.

He cannot take the retribution that is rightfully deserved.

But Remus can.

Far, far away from the sweet little mortal with white wings, dozing safely in the arms of his brother, a universe burns.

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[oftenderweapons]

I don't know if you are still accepting prompts, but can we get a yoongi x kitten jealous drabble??? love your work!

This was difficult for 2 reasons.

1. Yoongi is the least jealous of the guys imo.

2. Kitten would never make him jealous.

I think they're the less drama-prone couple of the crew. However I found a loophole for you, my lovely reader. Enjoy 💜

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten)

Wordcount: 1.4k

Genre: Angst, Fluff, established relationship, idol!AU

Rating: 18+

Trigger warnings: alcohol consumption, Kitten gets drunk, Kitten's ex FWB, mentions of wlw, angsty discussion on bi/pansexuality (nothing LGBTQ+phobic, you're safe here). Yoongi is very insecure, tired and vulnerable. Mentions of strap-on/pegging.

THIRST NIGHTS ARE OPEN

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who's that?” Yoongi asked, leaning over your phone as you both sat on the sofa.

“It's a friend from uni, Amber. She's just back from Canada.” You leaned towards the coffee table, lowering the volume of the TV. You already knew neither of you would watch it, just use it as background noise while you cuddled before falling asleep in the rainy Sunday afternoon.

“You never mentioned friends from uni.” Yoongi laid back while you slowly crawled behind him, putting down your phone, ready to focus on the only important task in the world — spooning him. Your hand crawled to his chest, humming in appreciation at the way his pectorals were bulking up. You loved knowing that your personal grumpy cat was taking care of himself.

“She wasn't exactly a friend friend.” You kissed his nape and waited for him to catch your drift.

“Just a colleague? One of those random people who live in the same room as you a couple hours a day for some years?”

You tutted. “More like 'we've seen each other naked and it was fun time for a bunch of months' kinda friends.”

Yoongi nodded. “Friend with benefits?”

You chuckled. “Yeah that.” Yoongi waited. He could feel you weren't done talking. “She asked me out for drinks tomorrow night.”

At that, Yoongi turned around. “Did you agree to go?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, she was abroad for years, maybe she's just trying to find her old friends, build connections. Maybe she feels lonely now here in the city.”

He knew you were being logic, and assuming that woman wanted something else was actually mean, but still a part of him felt uncomfortable. “I understand. Isn't that like seeing an ex though? Maybe she wants to pick up from where you left it?” He burrowed into your chest.

“We were never a thing. Just had some fun, no strings attached.” You held him closer. “I love you. And I want you. I chose you—”

“What if she's easier, better than—”

You interrupted him mid-sentence, not letting his self-destructive thoughts take control of him. “I chose you. Only you. Don't doubt it, ever.”

Yoongi nodded obediently, cuddling up to get ready for a nap. And while you did fall asleep, he couldn't, too anxious, continuously revived by your phone screen lighting up..

He noticed you had five texts from the girl. He put down the phone and breathed you in. He had you.

Did he?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoongi stayed on the sofa, alarmed when midnight became one a.m. and then two a.m. and then...

He heard you come through the door at half past, stumbling a little. You dropped your bag. And then you dropped your ass on the bench by the door, struggling to take off your boots. “Kitten,” he called, worried. He reached you in a minute, his blanket on his shoulders. He felt on edge, a bit raw.

“Yoongi?”

He had never heard your voice like that. “Are you okay? Are you drunk?”

You nodded and he immediately turned around, ready to head to the kitchen. You grabbed his hand on instinct. “Please.”

“I'll grab you some water—”

“You were right. I'm so fucking sorry.” You leaned your head to his stomach. “I should have listened to you.”

He patted your head. He waited.

You looked heartbroken when you looked up at him. He was devastated by it. Did you...? “She kissed me. I'm so fucking sorry, Yoongi, you were right. I should have stayed at home. Please, forgive me.”

Yoongi sat beside you on the bench, exhaling slowly and loudly.

“It meant nothing. I didn't want it,” you explained, gasping, rushing your words out, desperate.

He cupped the side of your head pulling you to his shoulder and kissing your temple. “It's okay.” It wasn't. He wanted to kiss you and reassure you and watch you come undone for him, remind him you were his.

“You know I love you.” You were crying. Yoongi hated it. ��Please.”

“Did you get this drunk with her?” he asked, taking off your shoes for you, helping you up and catching you in his arms.

“I was tipsy. I drank after she left.” You nuzzled into his neck.

“Did you do this to her too? Cuddling into her? Holding her like you hold me?” He needed to ask the question, no matter how much it hurt.

“Maybe back then, but not tonight. I want to hold you now. Only you. I want to kiss you. I want to be yours.” Being honest hurt, but you did it anyway. Keeping the kiss a secret didn't even cross your mind for half a millisecond: you needed to tell him and clear up this huge misunderstanding and make yourbond stronger and—

“Did you learn to use a strap with her?” His question was rough. He had to wait for you for two hours to find out he had so many doubts.

You frowned. “I never did that for anyone. I tried with you. Because I love you. Because I want to give you everything you need.”

He hummed, pondering your reply. He moved on. It was just something petty he had come up with when bitter with worry and disappointment. “Do you need to throw up?” Yoongi rubbed your back.

You waited. Nodded. Once in the bathroom you asked him to let you handle that alone. He refused.

You hated him seeing you in such miserable, hideous state, but he wouldn't take his eyes off you. He held your hair back as you got rid of the alcohol, soothing you with a hand along your spine.

Once you were done, teeth brushed, he realised he had one final answer he needed to understand whether he could sleep in the same bed as you. “Do you still... Do you...—”

“No, I don't like her, Yoongi. I love you. Only you. I'm yours.”

He let you finish. Though it was good reassurance, that was not the answer he needed. “I mean, do you regret getting together with me? Do you—” You were already shaking your head.

“Do you regret not having sex with other people? More specifically, women?” he finally asked.

“No. I don't regret falling for you. Loving you and only you. Sleeping with you every night. I have never been happier, Yoongi. You make me so happy. And I don't regret being monogamous and loyal to you.” You looked him right in the eye. “Being bisexual or queer or whatever has nothing to do with loyalty. Having sex with you doesn't mean I miss having sex with women any more than I miss having sex with other men. By the way, I don't miss any of that. I want you and no one else, man, woman, non-binary. I choose you.”

Yoongi relaxed. Somehow he understood, even thought to him felt different: you would wear a strap and he could have something close to sex with a man, but that wouldn't work the other way around. He stopped. Did he miss sleeping with a man? No.

He realised his insecurities had undermined his reasoning. When you wore a strap, the point wasn't you having male genitalia, but you being you. Calm, reassuring, sensual, soothing you. Cruel, cunning, sadistic, ruthless you.

It was you, his beloved, his everything, his lover.

“I'm sorry. I've been overthinking,” he confessed. “You're right.”

You breathed out in relief. “It's okay.” You stretched your arms out, holding him. “I'm sorry I made you worry and overthink.” You comforted him as much as you could. “I love you, baby. You're smart and kind and giving and peaceful and perfect. You're the best person I could ever dream of.”

He sniffled a little and nodded, holding you just as tight as you held him. “Are you sure you still love me?” he said, voice trembling.

You smiled and whispered “yes”, over and over again, your forehead touching his.

He pressed his lips to yours. They didn't belong to that hopeless woman. They were his. You had made them his. “I still love you too. A lot,” he whispered. “I love you. That kiss means nothing to you. It means nothing to me either.” He pressed his mouth to your jawline. “I'm still yours,” he whispered.

“Remind me.”

At that he smiled, his expression mirroring yours.

What happened after that was sacred and shall remain unspoken.

[snuggetfish]

This is kinda random but I often wonder about majima’s lack of depth perception; if you have any headcanons about this, I would love to hear them!

Oh yes, I've given this some thought! And I've read up a bit on what adjusting to life with one eye is like, the main takeaway being: it is actually just a matter of adjustment.

Although you'll never have full binocular vision again, throughout the course of roughly a year (according to medical websites I found) the brain adapts to no longer needing cues from the other eye in order to correctly perceive depth. It learns to rely more on perspective, shading, texture, occlusion, etc.

But how would this work out for Majima specifically? I think it's likely his adjustment period was longer than average. He spent the first year after his traumatic eye loss chained up in a dungeon after all, with little light around and no means of exploring his surroundings or getting used to this change in vision. It was only once they let him out that he could start re-acquiring the dexterity he once had.

And think of how humiliating and enraging this process must've been... To constantly be faced with the reality that you're struggling to pour drinks without holding down the glass... or that you have to reach for the railing when walking down the stairs, because that last step is just a little too deceptive. Or that you miss 90% of the balls at the batting cages, a particularly devastating blow to someone like Majima who's got some very tender memories attached to the sport.

And if you can't even hit a ball right, what hope is there for wielding a weapon? I like to think that this is why Slugger is one of Majima's Y0 styles: he's determined to master the bat again and if there isn't always time for baseball... well there's bound to be some goons he can practice on instead. Not to mention some of the other things he spends his free time on that also involve depth perception - darts and UFO catcher games.

In terms of his job at the Grand, in addition to the drinks pouring thing, I imagine he had to learn to work around his blind spot when tending to patrons. Most aren't sober enough to notice, but the manager seems to favour the tables on the left side of the floor, which seems counter-intuitive at first, but that's how he can keep his good eye's peripheral vision out for trouble also on the right side.

Similarly, when he's in the backroom tidying stuff up or counting the day's earnings, Majima's one rule is: always keep a view of the door. He learned this lesson the hard way when Sagawa once managed to sneak in without making a sound and stood there watching Majima smoke and curse under his breath for god knows how long... before clapping him roughly on the shoulder just to see him unsuccessfully stifle a flinch.

As more and more years go by though, he gets pretty good at hiding this vulnerability. Either his hearing sharpens or he learns how to peer to the left without others noticing, so it's hard to really sneak up on him. Actually, here's something that's worth mentioning, since I think it's a deliberate choice on RGG's part: when Majima looks over his shoulder, particularly in high tension scenes, he often does so from the left. This struck me as odd the first few times, because I mean, how much can he really see from that angle? But now I'm inclined to say it's his unique intimidation tactic. Exposing the eyepatch side makes his expression difficult to read, plus it gives off this ominous vibe of "I don't even need my good eye to see you trembling in your boots." A pretty striking combo, if you ask me!

Anyway, this was more of a tangent, but yeah I think around the tail end of Y0 and then for sure as of Kiwami, Majima already has a lot more confidence in his perception. Maybe he's even surprisingly good at some trivial things that most of the Majima family boys never gave a thought to....like aiming crumpled up documents at the office trashcan 😌 Thanks for this prompt anon! These are the kinds of details I really love discussing haha

[mandareeboo]

ok now im curious what your most petty thing is (regarding the dp post)

Oooh boy, here we go! Buckle up fuckers this is gonna be a longer one.

My senior year of high school, I took a creative writing class. Partially because I needed to fill the slot, mostly because I wanted to improve my writing (spoiler: I did not). Now, my high school was a three floor building- first was mostly gym, second was general, and the third was senior lockers and art classes. I spent a good chunk of my schedule senior year on the second and third floor, going between an art class to my earth science (I took that one entirely as filler, but also bc I like science) to my locker and so on.

Creative writing? Creative writing was in the fucking basement. Go to the first floor, go to a corner generally used for health and development classes, to another corner, follow a ramp and some stairs, and boom there it is kind of basement. (Side note but this teacher was REALLY into attendance and would get you in trouble if you were late which was really annoying since basically no other class was in that part of the building).

My creative writing teacher wasn't bad, per se. I've had worse teachers. I had an algebra teacher who delighted in making freshman girls cry and mocking them for it. I had a journalism teacher who would use her class time reporting how Hilary was secretly ill during the election. I had a history teacher say trans people weren't real to an openly gender nonconforming student (I didn't know them well enough to ask for specifics on their alignment, but they were using they/them at that point) and set up assignments just to mock students on the take they were told to make. It was more that she was uncreative and took it out on the kids doing creative writing.

She gave us two books to read. Basically “how I write” by published authors. I don’t remember the first one well enough and I donated it ages ago, but the second was Stephen King’s “On Writing”. It was 3/4′s personal stories about his life and 1/4′s “also write a bit every day”.  I mostly remember the first author bc she had those fake dreadlocks white people do when they destroy their hair and she gleefully told a story about making her son have a meltdown at a party or wedding or something bc he got overwhelmed and she wanted him to learn that “sometimes you don’t get what you want”. So. You know. Not much there.

She also instructed us to write in a journal every day, which she would check every few months or so. It had to be at least half a page. She would leave little comments in every one else’s journals when she checked them, but not mine- I realized pretty quickly she was a bit uncomfortable with LGBT+ content, so I made it my mission to make every journal drabble as gay as possible bc I was bored and she couldn’t mark them WRONG when she just stated we needed to write.

But it doesn’t end there! Through the entire class, we got exactly five writing projects. Stories that follow very specific guidelines that we would then read in front of the class, group proofread, and then have the teacher give final grades for. These things were approximately like a thousand words a piece, and I was writing out my 10,000 word “It Starts off Small” story in class when I got bored, so it wasn’t difficult. 

Our first project was a character going through a difficult decision. Or... something? I honestly forget the criteria. Anyway, I was HYPE. I’d had this idea for a long time now a human choosing between peaceful death or reincarnation, and this gave me the push to write it! I had a whole thing planned with death being a deer and reincarnation being a wolpertinger (bc reincarnation leads to many possibilities, ed boy, so a Frankenstein bunny made sense to me). Anyway I poured my heart and soul into this bastard and, bright eyed and bushy tailed, handed it in. My classmates all thought it was pretty good. Not to toot m’own horn, but there was some pretty bad ones going in, so I thought I’d get a solid B or something.

I got a D. I guess the struggle was too metaphorical, or it didn’t perfectly fit her criteria. I was devastated. Then I was mad. Bc I was a bored senior who thought they’d made something pretty decent for this completely optional class and her refusal to see that really hurt me at sixteen (I was always a year younger than my other classmates, so despite being a senior I didn’t turn eighteen until almost a year after graduation)

Well, fuck it, I decided. I’m going to parody the shit out of this class.

Our next project was a fantasy story. I was bitter and grumpy. The other fantasy stories read aloud were stuff like “yeah this dude fought a wizard and got a girl, then they went home and banged” (this was not hyperbole, he would’ve written and read the smut if allowed, I knew him personally) and “this girl that NO ONE UNDERSTOOD was called CRAZY but this S@!$ cheerleader who Stole Her Boyfriend so she killed them all” (fun fact: the girl who wrote that was my age and a sort of half-friend from middle school. She was a yaoi fangirl who didn’t mind lesbians as long as they, you know, didn’t FLIRT with her or something.) 

So I get up there. It’s the last day of presentations. And I present with a polite cheer. My story is about two magical shepherd type figures who are called Sister Brighten and Brother Dick as they chase down a werewolf who was drunk off his ass and accidentally bit someone else. They then revealed they were basically supernatural designated drivers for the whole town. I made Brighten mention that Dick’s name wasn’t even Richard. I titled it “His Favorite Brand is Grayhound”. It fit every single criteria. I got an A. I could tell she didn’t want to, because there was no comments or anything like everyone else’s, but she had to follow her own criteria.

Our third was a conjoined effort thing so I didn’t pull any fuckery there, but the fourth one was about common myths and spinning them into real or fake. One girl did the hook-handed door handle thing and the boyfriend ended up above his truck hanging (somehow???). I think someone did the age-old adage of a haunted wedding dress? I kind of read through those presentations. 

Now, I’m salty-salty at this point. I wasn’t expecting His Favorite Brand is Grayhound to get me a good grade. I half-assed a lot of it. I am in full Not Happy Teenager at this point. I grab a daddy long leg and settle in.

My fourth story of the year is “Paperskin.”

Paperskin is about a boy named Billy with the thinnest skin membrane ever. Just full on body horror. You could see his teeth behind his lips. Billy gets bored one day and wanders out of his house, tries to kick a soccer ball, and breaks a leg. As he’s laying in the grass a daddy long leg bites him- and his skin is so flimsy the fangs sink in and he dies. I’m actually still pretty proud of Paperskin. It’s a horrifying, Edgar Allen Poe of a monstrosity, but it made people squirm, which was the point. The teacher is clearly a bit unnerved at this point, but she gives me another A. 

I wrote a more “normal” story after that of a contentious objector forced to house kids going to see if any confirmed soldier deaths were any of their parents as my final one and I could feel her spite as she gave me a B.

So, yeah. That’s the story of when I tormented my creative writing teacher with The Gays and my weird ass sense of humor after she called one of my best works at that age a piece of shit.

 Here’s a google drive of these bad boys, because yes I do still have these things. I turned these fuckers in for grades, people.