#but i dont know … thats a big step. thats quite bold. not sure if im at that point yet

[oflgtfol]

everyone i am shifting into mando mode once again

[wolfqueen-is-here]

Kisses Remembered, Kisses Forgotten (Jonsa Secret Santa 2018)

Dearest @moonchildslife, I am so sorry for my delay, Christmas was crazier than I expected, and I didn’t finish my gift on time. But it is here now, and I hope you don’t find it too terrible ;). I wish you a wonderful year with Jonsa becoming canon in April and our fandom wishes coming true. Be happy, be healthy, be yourself! <3

Many thanks to @jonsasecretsanta2018 who made all of this happen, you truly are amazing!

  A/N Don’t be alarmed by a brief mention of the Hound. I promise you, it has nothing to do with SanSan in any way except mentioning The Un-Kiss. Book!canon, but mostly show!canon, can be interpreted both as a filler and an AU. 2300 words

  Kisses Remembered, Kisses Forgotten

Every now and then Sansa remembers, even though she has tried so hard to leave the past behind. The Hound was rough and scary, but the kiss that he took left a lingering taste on her lips—it was as soft as snow, almost familiar, she’s caught herself missing the shy affection that came with the kiss, a wary touch so vulnerable it felt almost childish. She remembers the kiss that he took. The only thing she doesn’t remember is him taking it.

Every night feels longer and darker than the former ones. It isn’t until she jumps from Winterfell walls that she remembers how to feel warm again, but the road north is as cold as ice and covered in snow. “His lips felt warm”, she thinks as she runs towards her freedom. “The kiss that he took, it felt warm.”

There are times when she is almost certain that she gave it willingly.

 —

“You look cold,” Jon says after staring at her in silence for a good half an hour. It would annoy her beyond reason, were it anyone else, anyone less trustworthy, anyone less… Jon, but coming from him it’s almost flattering. No one has ever cared for her so since she’d lost Father. Not once until this very moment has she felt safe since then.

“I’m okay,” she smiles. His unblinking eyes refuse to leave hers even for a second as if she’d vanish otherwise. Sansa leans towards him and strokes the inside of his palm with her thumb. It’s the most innocent of caresses, but it makes Jon stiffen and finally lower his head. She misses the stare instantly. “I’m okay, Jon.”

She tastes his name on her tongue. It feels rough—when was the last time she used it? —but sweeter than all the cake she’s ever had. She wants to swallow it, possess it, make it hers. “Jon,” she muses. “Jon. My Jon.”

If it’s something more primal than sisterly affection, she doesn’t recognise it in time. It may occur to her later, but it will be too late.

 —

The first night that she spends at Castle Black is a sleepless one. The shadows are long when she paces aimlessly around the room, too exhausted to fall asleep, too cold to lie still. Knocking at the door alerts her at first—she’s not used to feeling safe yet—she whispers: “Who’s there?” so quietly as if she were hoping nobody would answer.

“It’s me,” Jon says.

She lets him in.

“Do you have everything that you need?” he asks, looking at her with a strange longing.

Had it been more fitting, she’d say: “I have you,” but in their current situation she’d stumble over the words for certain. Instead, she just invites him to stay—just sit next to her and not talk until the sun rises and the shadows go back under her bed. They repeat it every night after that, it seems to comfort both of them.

 —

Jon’s eyes follow Sansa as he tries to find something—anything—that would remind him of a little girl she used to be. Her skirts dance when she rocks her hips, walking around Castle Black like she’d lived here all her life. He wants to avert his gaze but finds it impossible. She’s grown so tall, so slender—so beautiful.

“She’s your sister,” he thinks angrily, hiding his face in his hands. “You are not allowed to look at her like that.”

There were times, many lives ago, when they were only children. Sansa’s hair was more orange than auburn, Jon’s face—smooth, not a trace of beard or scars on it. They both called lord Eddard Stark their father. They both walked around holding Robb’s hand. They both watched Bran fall asleep while they were singing lullabies. Both, yes, but not—together.

When he tries to think about their lives before everything happened, before he went north and she went south, he keeps coming back to that one particular memory. And he’s not allowed to remember it. Not ever.

“She’s your sister,” he thinks, but as her lips move while she’s telling him another story, he watches. The redness of them almost provocative, they look like she’s been biting them for the past few hours. It’s a mesmerising set of colours: her lips with a raspberry tint, screaming to be tasted, licked, devoured; her eyes, deep blue almost exactly like the ones that used to follow him with disdain when he was nothing more than a bastard boy, but there’s no disdain in Sansa’s eyes, only hope. Her fair complexion contrasts with the dark streaks of her auburn hair, almost brown in the dimly lit room. Jon quashes the need to cup Sansa’s cheek and stroke it with his fingers, to check if her soft, unwavering beauty isn’t only a product of his hallucinations. He wouldn’t dare.

 —

Sansa enters the dining room when there’s barely anyone left. A few wildlings share a horn of ale, laughing. There’s also Edd sitting in the furthest, darkest corner, and he looks really down—Edd always looks down, that’s an inherent part of his personality, “The defining part”, Tormund insists, but Sansa doesn’t care, because Edd, albeit rather shy, is kind and caring, and that’s more than she could expect from a stranger. The wildlings terrify her still, she doesn’t know their customs, they’re far too loud and bold for her taste, so she chooses to cross the room and take a sit in front of Edd.

They don’t talk, there’s no need for it. Sansa eats her soup, wondering whether Jon has already eaten, and Edd just keeps staring at the ceiling. Weirdly, his silent presence comforts Sansa more than any words could.

When everybody leaves, Sansa reaches for Edd’s half-empty horn and moves her hand up and down its uneven surface. It’s become apparent these past few days that sleep refuses to come easily for her at Castle Black, and when she finally drifts off after hours of rolling over from side to side, her dreams are filled with memories—but are they real? Are they hers?

She doesn’t think about the Hound that often. He’s been a big part of her life when she was a prisoner in King’s Landing, but her fascination with his tragic story faded and went by long ago. She cannot remember his face anymore, only the scars, she doesn’t even know if she’d be glad to see him again. The memories of him and the torments from the Lannisters became too inseparable in her mind, and that’s why she doesn’t want to think of him or imagine their meeting.

Not now. Not ever.

Then why is her brain so set on bringing back the memory of the kiss? She can feel a sweet breath on her chin every morning when she wakes up from her blurry dreams—why is it sweet? Wasn’t the Hound monumentally drunk that night?—she can taste it, again and again. Her first kiss, that one thing she knows for sure. She’d gotten a few pecks from Joffrey, yes, they should probably count as first, but somehow it doesn’t feel right.

She closes her eyes and clasps her hands around the horn.

“I thought you weren’t fond of our ale,” Jon says, suddenly very close—how did he get so close without Sansa hearing his steps? Did she black out again?

“I heard it helps to forget.”

“It does,” his voice sounds worried, “for a while. It doesn’t make your past go away.”

Sansa raises her head and their eyes lock immediately as if they’re a couple of lovers always on a mission to find each other.

“For a while,” she repeats. “Sounds better than never.”

The ale tastes much worse than she remembered it—it’s bitter and stale, and reeks of old, damp barrels—but her lips don’t leave the edge of the horn until it’s empty. Jon’s eyes move to her throat as she swallows and stay there even after she’s finished.

At first, she doesn’t think anything’s changed—the same emptiness fills her, the same desperation—but minutes pass as they sit opposite one another in silence, and her head finally starts to feel both lighter and heavier, her thoughts stir inside her brain, but never fully form. It’s a bliss. It’s a curse.

She sits in the middle of a meadow, it’s late summer. The winds got chilly but she’s got a blanket around her arms. She’s knitted it herself. She’s content. She’s happy. She’s Queen Naerys Targaryen.

“Are you alright? That’s quite a lot of ale you just inhaled,” Jon murmurs, gently touching her arm. Sansa looks up and smiles at him.

“I’ll be fine,” she answers. “I’ll be fine, Jon. You can go to sleep, you look tired.”

He laughs hoarsely and it makes Sansa’s belly tighten.

“Not until I see you safely tucked under your furs.”

He approaches her with his back straight and a sword at his side. Where did he get that sword, she thinks briefly but continues to look at his beaming face.

“I’ve come to rescue you, my Queen.”

“You can’t, my love,” she says, remembering to dress her face in the deepest, most regal shade of sadness. “We’re bound to our fate forever. You’ve made your vows, as I have made mine.”

He kneels before her. He’s brave, he’s gentle, he’s strong. He’s Prince Aemon the Dragonknight.

Sansa tries to stand up all too quickly, her head spins violently and she has to hold on to the table to avoid falling. She can barely feel her legs and her arms—how strong was that ale?—but the burning hotness of Jon’s hand on her lower back, oh, that she feels.

“Careful,” he says, pulling her closer and throwing her arm around his neck. “You’re still much too weak to start drinking so heavily. Don’t let go, alright? I’m going to walk you to your chambers now.”

And he proceeds to do just that.

When Sansa lies in bed feeling truly sleepy for the first time since she’s reached Castle Black on her dying horse, she suddenly remembers everything.

His face is just inches away. He’s wearing his hair pulled tightly in the back like a true adult, but he’s been playing with swords all day and a few strands have escaped the knot, hanging loosely around his face. She feels the urge to curl one of them around her finger but before she decides to make a move, he leans in and kisses her on the lips.

It surprises her—the lightness of it as much as the act itself. “It’s not wrong as long as I’m Queen Naerys and he’s Prince Aemon,” she tells herself as she involuntarily moves closer and exhales into his warm mouth. His fingers wander up and down her sleeve, curious but never inappropriate. The kiss doesn’t last long, a few heartbeats maybe, but before it’s finished, she can hear him whisper: “Sansa.”

And instantly he’s Jon again, and she’s Sansa. And they’ve done something unforgivable.

 —

Jon’s almost asleep when he hears banging at his door. He jumps out of bed and rushes to open it only to find a breathless Sansa on the other side. Her eyes are wide, and she looks absolutely terrified. If she’s still a bit in her cups, it doesn’t show.

“What happened?” he asks.

She’s shivering. He wants to put his hand on her arm but she jumps away.

“You kissed me,” she hisses, her tone accusatory.

Jon blinks. Not that he hasn’t thought of it, because of course he has. He won’t admit it to anyone but though he tried extremely hard to see his long-lost sister in the beauty that has brought him back to life, he failed miserably. The truth is—she was never a sister to him, not even before they parted ways.

“I assure you,” he answers quietly, “I did not. I didn’t even enter your chambers, I asked lady Brienne to help.”

“Not tonight,” Sansa sighs and Jon realises she’s standing before him barefoot, dressed only in some old sleeping gown, but somehow she’s never looked more queenly with her demanding expression and fiery glare. “When we were children. A few months before we left Winterfell. We played… we played, and you…”

And he kissed her.

He kissed her and he never regretted it once until she came to him, crying, and ordered him to forget it ever happened. He didn’t want to, it was too precious a memory, but he obliged. For Sansa.

“I thought we weren’t speaking of it,” he whispers carefully.

She was really shook when she came to him that day, he never wanted to see Sansa cry, and to be the reason for her despair—it was too much for him to bear.

“We aren’t. I just… I forgot.”

“You forgot?” he asks, feeling hurt. It was his only kiss before Ygritte and he wasn’t even allowed to savour that memory. How could she have forgotten?

“I’m sorry,” she says. “What we did… it was wrong. I didn’t… I couldn’t… I think I repressed it. I made myself believe it happened with someone else.” She lowers her head and he’s afraid to spook her by asking who that person was, but he’s certain it will haunt him forever. Was it Joffrey? Gods, he hopes it wasn’t him. Jon couldn’t bear it. Sansa makes a strangled noise at the back of her throat. “But I remember now.”

He doesn’t know what more to say, but Sansa doesn’t seem to expect any kind of explanation. It happened. It shouldn’t have, but it did. And it changed things between them.

Sansa finally dares to look at him. Her lips are parted, ready as they were in that meadow years ago. He doesn’t take advantage of her vulnerability. When they win back Winterfell, when the war is over—she will come to him of her own volition.

And he will have that second kiss, gods be damned.

[attina-the-responsible]

How to Deal with the Aftermath According to Mermaids ~*~ [Mersisters]

In which the sisters check in...

@andrina-the-amazingsupergenius, @aquata-the-bold, @alana-the-badbitch, @ariel-the-rebellious

[tw -- mentions of murder and horrible stuff like that, ptsd, some gore, etc etc]

Andrina so how long until i can make hell puns

Aquata go for it, just start them now Aquata for real though, is everyone good?

Alana just dandy

Attina mhm mhm

Alana the real question is how is andrina Alana how was married life

Andrina god thank u i was waiting for someone to ask Andrina its not like i was MARRIED TO AL MCWIGGIN OR ANYTHING Andrina imagine being married to a WOW avatar Andrina thats what it was like

Attina don't they normally have nice bodies?

Alana Hey dad bods are in

Andrina im not even talking about the body im talking about how they talk and think and act and hammer at swords Andrina i swear it was like i was transported into an episode of Game of Thrones

Attina sounds harrowing

Ariel Do we have to talk about it?

Alana I want all the nitty gritty mcwiggin sex details

Andrina well we could shove it down for years until we all start manifesting split personalities and other mental disorders

Attina honestly,

Andrina u know like we did with mom lmao

Attina we don't have disorders. or split personalities.

Ariel Please don't talk about Mom.

Aquata sure we don't

Alana we r all dandy Alana that's my word of the week

Andrina i didnt talk about mom i mentioned her off hand as an example Andrina im all set to talk about how great i looked in that toga Andrina or honestly alana did you tap that

Attina andrina.

Andrina WHAT its an honest question Andrina if im gonna talk about mcwiggin i want Hot Daddy Ginger details

Alana duh

Attina alana! how /old/ is that man?

Alana idk it didnt come up Alana your age lol? Alana he was my husband, atty we were in love~~

Andrina mcwiggin's older than me i think

Attina were you in love? like--other you?

Alana other me was sold off because it was a good match Alana and she enjoyed the lavish lifestyle and the hot dude idk man

Andrina you know what i should have asked

Alana real me was like oh man what if im stuck here might as well have fun Alana carpet matches the drapes yes

Andrina how much they paid for me Andrina really?? im insatiably curious

Ariel They didn't really pay for us. I mean, not real them

Alana al was p rich you mustve been a catch

Andrina yeah i wanna know how many goats/bags of wheat/coins i went for Andrina do you think al knows Andrina do u think if i text him it would be weird Andrina "hi how much did u pay for me"

Alana no do it Alana i bet you were at least two goats

Attina it wasn't even our husbands who paid, it was their owners Attina GOD owners.

Andrina wow two whole goats, how many meals can u get outta goats Andrina omg guys my master was quite fit actually he was A Big Deal

Alana ider who mine were--uh Alana lmaoo #awkward

Ariel He didn't own you. It wasn't real. Dash wouldn't want to own anybody, and his family wouldn't either Ariel It was all like a bad dream I just Ariel want to forget it

Attina [unsent] well maybe if you hadn't RAN AWAY you would've been FINE

Alana did howl throw a party too big Alana i heard it was a rager Alana wouldve gone if Ginger Daddy and i didnt have other evening plans

Andrina ariel couldn't you have just had some of that water then? Andrina seriously i have some if you want it

Ariel I don't... I don't know. I want to forget but... I don't want to forget all of it. I have some water too, just in case, but... I really don't know. I don't want to be like you said. I don't want to repress it again.

Alana what are u repressing was this that bad Alana i mean the escort thing was hella annoying

Ariel I don't want to talk about it.

Andrina ariel, i get that, i do but-- you realize that is repressing it too right?

Aquata then why keep bringing it up

Alana ^^

Ariel I don't know. I don't know what to do. I don't want to talk about it and I want to forget it but I don't want to forget everything because that's not going to help either I just didn't realize thinking about Mom would hurt this much Ariel I'm sorry

Andrina well i think we should all talk about it then. rip it off like a bandaid

Ariel I didn't know I would see her down there Ariel I didn't know I would see

Alana you didnt know you would see our dead mum in the land of the dead

Aquata ....

Ariel I didn't think I would watch her die.

Alana [unsent] lmao same tho but not mum ok woops nope Alana it was one of the Alana idk underworld things

Ariel Over and over again and I couldn't stop it.

Alana they play tricks on you so ive heard in the gossip train

Andrina oh right like it wasnt real it wasnt how she actually died

Ariel But what if it was? Ariel It was so awful Ariel It's all I can see, just replaying and replaying over and over

Aquata then drink the water

Alana yeah jeez Alana no point in being noble if you cant lift your own head up

Ariel But then I'll forget the good things, too.

Andrina how about you tell us all the good things?

Alana such as,,

Ariel The good things that happened and all the good stuff I remembered.

Andrina you write them down for yourself

Alana very detailed

Andrina then you'll still have them. you can remind yourself and we can tell you that its real

Ariel But can you tell me how it felt? All those memories with Jim being so nice to me and helping me and playing with me when we were younger and telling me that he would keep me safe? Ariel Can you tell me about how Jim was there for me every step of the way? Ariel How can you explain how good of a person he was to me if you can't tell me about seeing Mom's death?

Aquata holy shit it was a fake life you know him in real life, right? you know what hes like already

Alana look kiddo, that's the stuff you gotta let go of because that was some fake mumbo jumbo past that we all got stuck with

Andrina That's why you write it all down and you tell yourself. Andrina and honestly yeah-- that isnt the real jim and you should like jim for jim, not for fake jim.

Ariel But it was real Jim that was there with me in hell

Aquata i was engaged but whatever

Ariel I mean - it was Pleiades too, but it was also Jim

Aquata HOLY SHIT NO IT WASNT Aquata IT Aquata WAS Aquata FAKE

Alana yah thank god or andrina and al would be banging

Aquata that crazy bitch created it. it wasnt real. end of story.

Andrina the horror, the horror,

Ariel Jim being with me in hell wasn't FAKE, it was REAL. I was there. I saw it and felt it all, and so did he. The past lives may have been fake but what we went through was REAL

Andrina Seriously-- I think you should write down the stuff that you like then. I do. Jim will understand that the other stuff is just too painful to death with right now. He'd want you to be okay, Ariel, however you need to be okay.

Alana ariel i have no bloody idea what you want us to tell you that andrina has not repeated ten times now

Aquata then do what andy said, write down the good memories, and drink the damn water because you cant complain about the bad and then immediately not want to forget the good

Alana atty where r u we need parental guidance

Andrina ok chill out aquata she can complain if she wants Andrina we dont need atty to be decent fucking sisters

Alana she listens to atty

Ariel It's okay, nevermind. I shouldn't have said anything. Just forget it

Alana so i think itll mean more coming from her Alana fineee just trying to help

Andrina Ariel, it's not okay. Look, if you don't want to forget about it, then thats' fine. If you want to like, talk about it and stuff, we should talk about it. I joke but yeah it wasnt exactly fun not knowing where my sisters were and watching daily executions by some whacked out nutjob

Andrina so you can talk to me ok

Ariel I just want to know how you guys have done this for so long

Alana done what

Attina Look, everyone. Nothing about this experience was something anyone has gone through before. Which means we have no idea how to deal with it and YELLING at each other isn't the way to fix it. We need to be patient and understanding towards one another. Ariel, I'm so sorry about what you went through. But, you have to realize that you hurt us by LEAVING. You didn't tell anyone where you were. I thought you were dead. Daddy thought you were dead. I thought I'd lost you and I don't know exactly what went on for you but for a good twelve hours, all /I/ could see was /you/ dying over and over in a thousand different ways. We need to come /together/, and be open and willing to talk to each other during times like this. Otherwise we'll just splinter apart, and I know none of you want that.

Alana oh there u r

Ariel I thought I was doing the right thing. Not telling anyone I was going. I didn't want anyone to worry. I just wanted to go and save everyone, but I couldn't

Attina No. You couldn't. Because we're supposed to make these decisions /together/ as a family. We're weak apart.

Aquata we're not weak

Ariel I don't believe that

Alana whoa okay speak for yourself Alana that was for atty not u ariel

Andrina look im just so glad that you're okay and im proud of you for trying ariel. we shouldn't be talking about any of this over text though

Attina and this is exactly why all of you get into trouble!

Ariel I don't know how else to talk about it Ariel No one ever does

Andrina well that means we can't do it wrong huh? we'll all just kinda fumble it up together but at least we'll be in the same room

Ariel If I get into trouble for trying to save you all, then I'm fine with that!

Alana better get into trouble than be boring

Attina I'd rather be boring and alive than whatever you think you're being and /dead/.

Alana im not sure who youre yelling at here because im not the one who ran off into the land of the dead Alana theres a difference between oh lana broke curfew and oh ariel and kid hero jim hawkins decide to save the world

Andrina can we like not yell at each other at all how about that Andrina whats done is done

Ariel If Attina would stop pretending she knows everything, maybe there wouldn't be any yelling

Aquata holy shit

Alana i think you scared her off ariel

Andrina i hereby move to wipe this text history and start over Andrina who seconds my motion

Ariel I didn't want to scare her off, she just was talking like I didn't know what I was doing

Attina I don't think I know everything, but I know not to run off to HELL to try to save the world on some selfish delusion of grandeur.

Ariel I knew what I was doing

Alana ohp too late andy

Attina oh really, is that why you're so terrified you can barely speak?

Ariel I wasn't being SELFISH, I was trying to SAVE everyone. To save YOU. And Aquata and Alana and Andrina and Arista and Adella and Daddy and myself Ariel EVERYONE

Attina BULLSHIT ariel, we were perfectly fine.

Ariel You were SLAVES Ariel we were SLAVES Ariel people were in a JAIL in PRISON Ariel people were EXECUTED Ariel How could you even say that?

Attina THOSE PEOPLE WEREN'T /US/ THEY DON'T MATTER

Alana this isnt some YA book a 17 year old does not save the day Alana i mean realistically

Ariel Of course they matter!

Alana if you wanna do something you gotta work within your means

Ariel Why are our lives more valuable than anyone else's??

Alana cold, atty

Ariel I can't believe you would even say that!!! Ariel What if Paul had been in prison?? His life doesn't matter???

Attina not as much as yours, or any of you.

Ariel That's not right

Attina and i'm sure he'd say the same thing. his babies are more important than me to him. which is how it should be.

Andrina glad we're casually debating morals and ethics

Alana anyone want a face mask

Ariel I'm not going to apologize for doing what I thought was the right thing, for trying to help everyone

Aquata how about a shot instead

Alana im game

Attina I'll take that shot.

Andrina this reminds me of something my darling mcwiggin said to me

Attina Or two or three. Attina just give me the whole bottle.

Aquata or the whole bottle

Alana jinx now you guys cant talk till i say your name

Aquata too bad 

Alana what did mcwiggin say

Andrina nice, digital high five

Alana wow now you get 7 years of bad luck aqua :C

Andrina he said, andrina, you are the most beautiful creature i've ever seen Andrina (we'd just finished making love under the sunset) Andrina and i was like u know what al tiberius mcwiggen

Aquata shit im doomed forever

Alana that's poetic

Andrina you're right.

Attina now i need two bottles

Alana next movie night's gonna be awkward when we pick up the dvd

Aquata you need to go hit him up andy Aquata were sending you to get it

Andrina alas, it cannot be Andrina he has another lover

Ariel Maybe if she gets drunk she'll actually step off her high horse and say something that doesn't involve her knowing what's best and always being right

Aquata for fucks sake

Alana i h8 to break it to you ariel but atty has like nine years more experience of like existing in the world Alana and interacting with it

Ariel That doesn't make her right about everything

Attina Whatever, Ariel. You're the one who needs to come off your high horse. Don't come crying to me when someone knocks you off it.

Alana makes her more right when it comes to dealing with shit

Ariel I won't. You'd just yell at me, anyways. It's all you know how to do.

Alana thats not true she cleans very well

Andrina she also makes killer lemon squares

Attina Well if you weren't a brat, then I wouldn't yell at you.

Andrina probably not as delicious as the delicacies that al tiberius mcwiggin purchased for me from the market but close

Alana you gotta hit him up

Ariel I'm not being a BRAT, don't CALL me that

Andrina he has another LOVER what am i to do

Alana flash your tits Alana age old triton advice

Aquata does he /really/ though

Andrina he doesnt like me for my tits 😟 Andrina he likes me for my personality 😟

Alana gasp Alana the horror

Andrina i know tbh maybe he's gay Andrina no he's not he made wild and passionate love to me

Alana did u guys like Alana do it as yourselves

Attina Well, stop acting like one. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Andrina 69

Alana like not fake selves

Andrina corkscrew Andrina monkey Andrina koala

Alana koala

Andrina all that and more

Alana nice use of the shrug emoji, atty Alana 10/10

Ariel I am NOT acting like one! You can't keep treating me like I don't know anything and like you know everything because you DON'T. Just because you're older that doesn't make you all wise or something. In fact, most of the time you don't know what to do - you can't even flirt with a boy and you're way older than I am! Ariel So STOP being such a rude, bossy know-it-all, I'm sick of it!

Aquata ummm im pretty sure she /can/ flirt with a boy considering shes been on a couple dates with paul?

Alana ouch ariel low blow

Aquata thats neither here nor there though

Andrina oh right we also did the flying ninja Andrina his form was impeccable Andrina for such a robust man, he's graceful in the bedroom

Attina Fine, if you want me to stop babying you. FINE. Consider it done. You're officially NOT MY CONCERN.

Alana i did not need that imagery thanks

Ariel GOOD. I don't NEED to be your concern. I SHOULDN'T be.

Alana is THIS random CAPS thing something WE'RE doing NOW

Andrina hOW exCitING

Aquata can we not

Ariel You moved out. I already have to deal with Daddy. I shouldn't have to deal with you BOSSING me around and saying you know best like this. You're not Mom

Alana low blow ariel

Aquata so about that shot Aquata or bottle

Alana i can swing by ur room in 5, aqua Alana i have malibu

Aquata get here in 2 then Aquata because i need the entire bottle rn

Alana so demanding Alana omw

[fictionalrat]

let it happen | chapter 4

read on ao3

9:40 A.M.

Lance saves the document, closes it, stares at his laptop desktop image until his eyes start to sting, groans in frustration, and slams his laptop shut. Puts it aside. He crosses his arms like a petulant child, he chews on his bottom lip, his eyes roam around his room.

He watches as the wind plays lazily with his curtains, making their shadows dance, swaying back and forth.

Something moves in his peripheral vision. He rolls his head to the side, fingers hovering over the keypad. The sight that meets him makes him pause, his fingers freeze, Keith looks so peaceful, he looks almost… ethereal. It’s kind of disturbing, yet mesmerizing at the same time.

Keith’s pale face glows a tender hue under the morning light, the sun tinges his chapped lips a deep pink, the scar under his left eye looks almost translucent.

Keith’s so… unfairly beautiful.

He catches himself tracing down the slopes of Keith’s face, the lines of his jaw, the curve of his upper lip with his eyes like a piece of chalk on canvas. He’s never seen something quite this stunning before in his life (granted, he’s only 22, but that’s beside the point), if only he knew how to draw like Keith does.

Lance can’t take this, his heart’s too weak.

He wants to bury his face in Keith’s ruffled hair, wants to breathe him in, wants to have him in his arms, wants to touch, but he seems so out of reach like this. Lance curls his fingers into fists, aching to touch. He restrains himself from charting pale, fading freckles down with his fingertips.

It… it’s very distracting, is what it is.

Keith scrunches up his nose, grumbles and throws an arm over his eyes. Lance’s breath catches in his throat.

Lance… Lance is fucked, he knows he’s fucked, he already knew that then (when Keith suggested this… arrangement), he knows that now, he’s known that for some time now, but it never fails to catch him by surprise. This… feeling never fails to overwhelm him. He fucking hates this… whatever this is, he has no fucking word for this… feeling. It claws at his throat, it kicks him the gut, it scorches his heart, it clenches his heart in a death-grip, it steps on it, it rips his heart apart.

Lance covers his face in his hands and rubs, groaning in frustration. This is ridiculous. He forces himself to look away, and focuses on drilling a hole into the wall with the force of his glare instead, running his tongue over one of his canines.

Do not distract yourself with cheesy rom-com bullshit, bitch, he scolds himself, Write. Yes, writing is good. Stressful, but good. Go back to writing. Avoid contact. Don’t look. Avert your eyes. Work. You’ve got work to do, so do it.

After about five or so minutes of glaring despondently into fucking space and hating himself for being pathetic, he does. He’s always been good at taking all his frustrations on his writing.

He pulls his laptop into his lap, opens it, double taps, and the document appears on the screen. The cursor blinks curiously at him, he blinks back, and sighs. He starts scanning it for typos, and corrects them, all the while grumbling about how fucking stupid he is, and how fucking stupid all those mistakes were.

He adds some of the worst expletives in big, bold and italic capital letters next to shitty, weird ass sounding paragraphs that don’t ever seem to get any better, even after rewriting them seven thousand three hundred and eighty-four fucking times. Doesn’t matter how many times he tries, how many times he bangs his fists on the keyboard, how hard he hits the keys, the words don’t ever seem to come out quite right.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

“¡BESA MI CULO, PUTO!” He snaps at one particularly dumb typo, and deletes its whole sentence out of spite.

Keith stirs, and groans next to him, turning his body towards Lance. Lance tenses, holding his breath and sitting very still until he’s super sure, 100% Keith won’t wake up. Keith sighs obliviously in his sleep, and turns on his stomach. Lance lets out a relieved breath, closing his eyes.

He snaps them open and shakes his head in frustration, “No seas tonto, Lance.”

He hits ctrl-z and skips the paragraph entirely, jumping to two paragraphs bellow, he reads it and gasps, “¿Qué carajo? Who wrote this? A fiveslgfjdjdfds.” A hand lands on the side of his face with a smack, smooching his cheek. Lance screams, - of course he does, how could he not. - and almost falls off the bed.

“SHUT YOUR ROTTEN MOUTH, I’M TRYING TO SLEEP,” Keith growls at him, voice raspy, and low, and terrifying. Even muffled by the pillow and drowsy, his voice doesn’t lose its aggressive edge. What the fuck.

Lance, after recovering his soul, turns his head so he can stare at Keith with raised brows, and huffs, “Hella lot of words coming from a sleeping person, I’d say.”

Keith groans and lifts his face off the pillow, glaring at him through squinty eyes, “Shut that fucking trap, you moldy piece of bread, or get out.”

“This is my fucking room, Keith,” Lance sputters, snapping his laptop shut for added effect, “you get out.”

“I’M SLEEPING, PISS OFF,” Keith kicks at Lance’s leg with enough force to bruise.

“OW! CAREFUL WITH MY COMPUTER, YOU BRUTE!”

Keith grumbles, turning his back to Lance and covering his head with Lance’s comforter. He curls into a ball, shutting Lance out.

Lance relocates his grumpy ass to the couch after flipping an oblivious, snoring Keith off.

He loves the guy, but damn, can he be an asshole so-

…Wait, did he just-

Oh, hell no.

10:34 A.M.

stud muffin so………….. do i even wanna know? probably not, but you’re gonna tell me anyway pidge, cover ur eyes

pidgeotto shut up hunk im not 5 GIVE ME DA DEETS LANCE

space boi lance AWWW MAN MY DUDES MY BROS MY PALS MIS HERMANOS

pidgeotto oh boy here we go…….. im regretting this already

space boi lance SHUT IT BIRD TURD anyway where was i before i was so rudely interrupted??? ah yeah OH MY GOD MY DUDES hes a screamer KEITH KOGANE OUR KEITH IS A SCREAMER ITS LIKE AAAAAA GUYS boi so thicc too goddem cant wait to have him up my ass honest such a nice dick 11/10 reallygreat work of art grade a AND DAT ASS!!!!!!!! GUH SO FUCKING SMOOTH he looks really nice when hes sleeping too so soft i want to chomp on his cheeks ughhhhhh how can he be so perfect its so unfair im swooning i swear to GOD he looks hot even when hes kicking me out of my own room which UNFAIR

A facebook notification pops up at the top of his phone screen in the middle of his rant.

Hunk Garrett tagged you in a post, it says.

Lance arches an eyebrow, “Huh.”

He taps it open.

Hunk Garrett is listening to the less i know the better, by tame impala i’d like to dedicate this song to my good pal Lance Martínez you know /why/ Pidge Holt and 5 others 

Pidge Holt  HOOOOOO BOY THE BURN THATS Y UR MY MAIN HO HUNK I LOVE U

Matthew Holt lol babe look at The Shade Takashi 

Takashi Shirogane Ah yes, that is indeed The Shade Of It All *scratches chin* Lance Martínez shiro i love u but dude ure embarrassing get off the internet Matthew Holt dont trash talk the baby lance Matthew Holt he’s sensitive Matthew Holt (ure adorable babe) Takashi Shirogane I take offence to that Lance Takashi Shirogane No more dog memes for you Lance Martínez NOOOOOO DAD NOT THE DOGGO MEMES Takashi Shirogane ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Pidge Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Hunk Garrett ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Matthew Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Lance Martínez u guys are absolute TRASH

Lance Martínez the WORST I TELL U WORST

Lance Martínez I NEED NEW FRIENDS ASAP 

Pidge Holt awwwwwwww lance i love u too Pidge Holt u can tell me everything later i’ll allow it Pidge Holt bring food Pidge Holt and redbull Pidge Holt tons of redbull Lance Martínez ure… ugh Lance Martínez i hate u Lance Martínez u tiny bird turd Pidge Holt URE tiny Lance Martínez GASP U TAKE THAT BACK Pidge Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Hunk Garrett ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Matthew Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Takashi Shirogane ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Allura Ourania ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Lance Martínez LULU NOT U TOO Allura Ourania ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

11:35 A.M.

He’s avoiding the huge ass, one-sided, and glittery elephant in the room, he’s avoiding the fuck out of it. He’ll avoid the fuck out of it until it goes away, until it disappears for good, until it goes to fucking hell, until it’s burning in the fifth circle of hell.

He has no time for this.

This project is worth 40% of his grade.

His prof’s a mad man, yeah, but that’s how it is. He won’t flunk this class just because he can’t control his feelings.

He can’t, won’t, jeopardize his project just because of fucking feelings.

¡No, de ninguna puta manera! 

He needs a shower. 

And a joint. 

And coffee. 

Tons of coffee. 

But a shower first, then facials, then weed, then coffee.

Tons of coffee. 

He’ll also down a shot of tequila, because he’s feeling adventurous. 

(Reckless, he means reckless.)

1:45 P.M.

Lance’s minding his own business, stirring his way into his fifth?? possibly, probably, he’s not sure, cup of coffee, and stuffing his face with ham and pineapple pizza rolls in the kitchen after smoking a whole joint by himself in the bathroom, when he hears it. It is terrifying. A dull thud reverberates through the apartment, echoed by it; the most earth-shattering, ear-splitting shriek he’s ever heard.

“LANCE!”

He freezes, his heart plummets.

His spoon drops and clatters on the floor.

“LANCE, YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD,” the deity roars.

Lance squeaks like a fucking mice, and squats, hiding behind the counter.

Run. Pack your things and go, get out of town. Flee to Europe, change your name-

He presses his overheated cheek to the counter and sighs, so good. He grins wide.

Keith’s feet smack on the floor as he stomps, over-aggressively, I dare add, out of Lance’s room, “What the fuck did you do to my ass, you rotten egg?” His voice is louder now, much louder. Lance jumps mid giggle-fit, which sets him off into another one.

“ME!” Lance peers over the countertop and raises his hand, waving sluggishly and cackling, bloodshot eyes wide. Well, as wide as they can go, which, honestly, isn’t much, considering, “I DID THE FUCK! I PUT MY DICK IN - HAH - YOUR ASS! YOU LET ME - HAHAH - IT WAS WILD!”

Keith takes a long look at him and, like a flip has switched, his scowl melts and he bursts out laughing, his nose crinkling up. It’s so fucking adorable, Lance’s heart hurts. It burns. It screams in pain. Lance laughs the pain away like the idiot he is, or maybe just because he’s high as fuck. One can never be too sure, ya feel.

“I know that, you fucking stoner, I mean THE BRUISES.” He points at his bare hips, trying to catch his breath.

Lance’s eyes travel south.

Helloooo there, legs.

Wait, he went too far.

Go back two frames.

There, hips.

Lance blinks, and tries to open his eyes further. He can’t.

He blinks again.

Oh.

Ho boy, he did a number on the guy alright.

Also, this part is super wild, bare with him, it looks weirdly… beautiful? It’s gorgeous, actually. It’s a masterpiece, Lance is an artist.

The red and purple splotches scattered across Keith’s skin are… kind of blurring together in one big ass bruise, that reminds him oddly of the Milky Way. Lance fights hard against the white urge to draw an alien-head above Keith’s hipbone. Keith probably wouldn’t mind it, though. The nerd. Lance chuckles.

Keith clears his throat.

Lance flicks his eyes up at Keith, blinks languidly at him several times. Keith’s waiting for something, isn’t he? What is it again? He rakes his brain for an answer. It beeps.

Ah, yeah.

An answer, right. He needs to answer Keith, duh.

Lance cackles at his stupidity.

“Oh, that.” Lance wipes his eyes on his sleeve in between chuckles as he finally answers, sniffing. He braces his arms on the counter and pushes himself up on his feet, winking, “I’m not sorry about that.” He lies his torso on the counter, smooching his cheek against the cool surface, and shoots Keith a lopsided smile.

Keith shakes his head, “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but you looooooove me,”  Lance sing-songs, finger gunning lazily with a grin.

Keith rolls his eyes fondly, and gets closer, dragging one of the stools from under the counter, and sitting down gingerly, wincing a little. His eyes flicker swiftly to something as he settles, before they land on Lance again. Keith frowns, “Should you be drinking coffee?”

Lance frowns back, puzzled, turning his head so he can look at his mug. “Shouldn’t I?” He wonders.

Keith leans over the counter, elbows propped up, and starts picking idly at one of the pizza rolls sitting pretty on the plate in front of him, “It doesn’t affect your high?”

Lance gasps. His pizza rolls. “No touching, you fugly mullet, it’s mineeeeee,” Lance whines, reaching forward and swatting Keith’s fugly hand away. He snatches the plate from Keith and brings it closer to himself, tucking it in between his arms, away from pizza roll-thieving mullets. Lance sticks out his tongue at him, before fitting two of the biggest rolls in his mouth. At the same time. For emphasis. His cheeks puff out.

Keith ducks his head to hide his grin. “You look like a chipmunk,” he comments nonchalantly, tapping his knuckles idly on the surface.

“Nhobowdshy ashkd yuh, Puhtrish,” Lance shoots back.

Keith rolls his eyes and flips him off with both hands, leaning back on his stool.

Lance flashes him the half-chewed food.

“Fuck, that’s gross.”

“Ah.” Lance struggles to swallow all of it dry, but manages, “I forgot to - clears throat - answer, coffee doesn’t affect my high much.” He shrugs, taking a bite off one of the rolls. Keith hums.

Lance swallows, “Pass me the straw, please. The long, bendy one.” He gestures a thumb back.

Keith slides from the stool in one smooth movement, makes his way around the counter and goes for the drawers. Lance hears as it slides open, “Which color?”

“Purple,” Lance answers over his shoulder.

He stretches his arm when Keith pulls the straw out and makes a grabby hand at him.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Keith holds the straw over his head.

“Gimme, or I’ll punch your di-I-i-aaAAAAAah,” he tries to steal the straw from Keith, but loses his footing and almost dives face-first into the cold, hard floor. “¡Coño!” He fumbles to keep upright, hooking a hand on the edge of the other side of the counter. Thank fuck for long fingers.

Lance manages to get his balance back by planting his feet firmly on the ground. Keith makes his way back to his stool, and once he’s settled, he hands Lance the straw already stretched. Keith’s lips quiver in a poorly concealed attempt not to laugh, eyes twinkling mirthfully.

Lance rolls his eyes as he throws the straw into his cup, propping himself on his elbow and resting his chin on his palm.

Keith makes gagging sounds, bangs falling on his eyes.

Lance ignores him in order to bring the straw to his lips with his free hand, and suck the coffee, swallowing in an obnoxiously loud gulp.  

Keith’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “You’re gross,” Keith comments, tucking his hair behind his ears.

“Thanks, I try,” Lance grins around his straw, then frowns at Keith’s bare chest. “Shouldn’t you put on some clothes, though?” Lance asks, eyes half-lidded, “It’s freezing, Keith.”

Keith raises an eyebrow, looking down. “Off-topic, but no, Lance, it’s not,” he shoots Lance a look, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “And how would you know, anyway? You’re high.”

“What’s this jealousy I’m feeling? There’s more, you know.” He pats the breast pocket of his sweatshirt with a dopey smile, and meets Keith’s eyes as he takes a sip, waggling his brows. He swallows and winks, “Don’t need to get all broody on me, grumpy pants.”

Keith hides his face on his arms and groans. Lance can see the blush rising on Keith’s neck, and allows himself a mental pat on the back as he pushes himself upright.

“Okay, let’s go,” Lance trots towards his bedroom.

3:32 P.M.

When they sober up enough to get stuff done, they throw themselves on the couch, legs tangled because why not, right? It’s not like Lance’s life makes any sense, anyway.

Lance with the camera in his hands and laptop on his stomach, Keith with his headphones around his ears, and one of his weird, edgy sci-fi books resting on his thighs.

Lance rests his head on the armrest and hits play.

Keith’s feet tap a comforting rhythm against Lance’s.

4:02 P.M.

Keith falls asleep against the couch, mouth slightly open.

Lance does a poor job at reducing the volume of his laughter at his dramatics on video. Even though Keith’s got his headphones on, Lance still manages to wake him up, and ends up getting kicked in the shin by a very rumpled, grumpy, and over-sized baby with a fugly mullet for that.

He tries not to laugh again.

…He fails miserably, and both his shins suffer.

Terribly.

4:30 P.M.

Because Lance has shit luck, and the universe is out to get him, they didn’t manage to catch Keith’s o-face on video. Life is unfair, God hates him, Jesus hates him, even Buddha must hate him, because this, right here, has got to be some sort of twisted divine punishment. Maybe it’s Karma, maybe he was a murderer in his past life, he doesn’t know. What he does know, though, is that this must be fixed.

“Dude,” he kneels on the couch and shakes Keith’s knee to wake him up, “Dude. DUDE!”

Keith’s eyes flutter open and he squints at Lance, blinking blearily, utterly confused.

Lance sits back on his heels and he offers Keith the camera, “Look.”

Keith, while frowning up at him, sits up and takes it. He yawns, unplugging his headphones from his phone and into the camera. He hits play.

Keith snaps the camera shut after about ten minutes, a furious blush burning his high cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. He still looks mildly confused, though, and astoundingly flustered, bringing his knees to his chest.

Lance bites on his bottom lip and heaves a huge breath. “We’ll have to tape chapter 1 again,” he clarifies.

Keith lifts an eyebrow, face still bright red, “Because…”

“I can’t see your face when you’re coming, dude.” Lance explains, waving his hands at the camera in exasperation, “That’s unacceptable, you know. really preposterous. I can’t have this, I can’t WRITE like this. This is a disaster. We gotta redo this, Keith. It’s a matter of life and death.” He grabs both Keith’s knees and shakes.

“But- I’m awake now, dipshit, quit shaking me,” He snaps, batting Lance’s hands away from his knees, “But… don’t you remember my face when I was actually coming yesterday?”

So, you see… remember when Lance mentioned he has shit luck, and the universe is out to get him, and some sort of divine punishment is being inflicted upon him? There’s another reason to back up that assessment.

They not only hadn’t caught Keith’s o-face on video, but he also didn’t get to see Keith’s o-face in living color yesterday because he had his fucking eyes closed. Which rude, Lance. That is just plain rude. There’s no excuses. That’s probably why God, Jesus, and Buddha hate you this much.

Lance hangs his head. “I- I had my eyes closed,” he confesses, accepting defeat.

“You’re hopeless.”

Lance’s head shoots up and he gasps, “Excuse!”

“No,” Keith stands up abruptly, almost kneeing Lance’s nose in the process.

Lance squawks and reels back, out of reach, eyes wide, “Wha-”

“Shut the fuck up, you dry raisin,” Keith glares accusingly at him and Lance flinches, “I’ll fix this.”

“Kei-”

Keith’s arm shoots up, and he points his index finger at Lance, thick eyebrows pinched. “Stay put,” he warns, waving his finger, “don’t fucking move, don’t breathe.”

Lance is too confused to react, or even say anything, so he just gapes.

“Just… stay there, I’ll be quick.”

Keith returns buck naked, with a dildo and the lube in hands.

Lance’s at a loss, he’s a loss for words, his sass is gone, along with his ability to form coherent thoughts. Keith has that effect on him, apparently. Keith always finds a way to give Lance whiplash.  

Keith dumps the stuff on the coffee table and turns his attention to Lance, he chuckles at what he sees there, “Shut your mouth, Lance, you’ll catch a fly.”

Lance finds his voice. “Wha-” he clears his throat, and shakes his head before continuing, “What the fuck?” (Eloquent.)

Keith rolls his eyes as he picks up the camera, “You’re gonna tape me as I touch myself.”

Keith hands Lance the camera.

“I don’t…” Lance takes it, still completely dumbfounded.

Keith cuts him off, “I told you I’d fix this, didn’t I? So this is me, fixing it.”

Something in Lance’s brain seems to click.

“Oh,” he replies dumbly.

Oh no, is what he means, no fucking way. He’s gonna die today.

Yup, today is the day.

“Okay, so…” Keith claps his hands, “scooch over, I need the space.”

Lance’s eyes widen, “You really gonna do this here? On the couch?”

“Is there a problem?”

Yes. There’s a ton of problems, actually. Not with Keith doing it on the couch, but still, there’s a problem. Tons of problems. These problems have problems. For one, Lance will probably die. For two, he can’t do this anymore. He can’t but he has to, and he will because his project is worth 40% of his final grade, he will because he has to. He has the moral duty to prove to Keith, and to himself, that he, as a matter of fact, can do this, even if he’ll end up hurt. Fuck his feelings.

“No, no, nope, no problem at all. I’m all up for jerking off on the couch, sign me the fuck up. It’s just…” Lance blows a raspberry, scratching the back of his head, looking around the room, uncertain. He can’t meet Keith’s eyes, “it looks too cramped, I think? I was just, uhm, thinking that maybe, I don’t know, you’d prefer doing this on a bed?”

Keith snorts, “Nah, it’s okay.”

Lance finally looks at him, searching his face, “You sure? Like, 100%?”

Keith rolls his eyes, “Yes Lance, don’t worry, just… keep the camera on me.”  

Lance sits upright, crisscrossing his legs, and points the camera at Keith.