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owl127 · 1 year

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Could you write alpha Clarke and omega Lexa struggle trying to conceive a baby?

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The blurred image focuses on a woman sitting down on the single chair in the frame. Behind her is a large window with sleek modern architecture reflecting on tinted glass. She clears her throat, pats her button-up shirt, and an accompanying thud follows her hand.

"You don’t need to touch it," a voice says from behind the camera. "Speak normally, and we get it."

A shade of pink takes over her cheeks under the set lights. She chuckles, tucking blonde hair behind an ear. On the lower left, captions appear: Clarke Griffin, patient #013, 40 years old. Female Alpha.

"Thank you for agreeing with the post-treatment documentation," says the same unnamed voice, a soprano woman. "As we said before, this will only be shared with other future patients."

Clarke nods. "You changed my life. I’m happy to help."

"Can you talk a little bit about how you felt when you were diagnosed?"

Clarke works her jaw back and forth, looking down at her polished shoes then up at the camera again.

"Well. Basically, it sucked."

0000

The punching bag moved back and forth with each new impact. Clarke’s knuckles ached and her wrist screamed, but she kept delivering punch after punch into the bright red canvas. Pain flared at her joints, and sweat ran down her back, but she needed it to keep her thoughts at bay.

Thoughts of how much of a useless alpha she was.

"Clarke?"

It was the second time Lexa came to check in on her. At first, it was an innocent call for dinner, but now Lexa’s voice had a layer of worry on it.

"Clarke."

Clarke didn’t stop the punching. Jab, lower, jab, jab. Her gloves burned with friction, but those jabs were the only thing keeping her from facing her incapacity to—

"I brought you coconut water," Lexa said from behind her. Clarke stopped, wiped sweat from her face, saw how useless that was since she was completely drenched, and shrugged.

"Thank you." She didn’t look Lexa in the eyes as she accepted the bottle, downing it in three long gulps. Dehydration. Just what her body needed, being this useless bag of meat and—

"Clarke." Lexa placed a hand on her shoulder, coaxing Clarke to face her. Lexa wasn’t angry, which infuriated Clarke more. Lexa should be furious, doing to her what Clarke was doing to that bag. But Lexa wasn’t pitiful, and for that, Clarke was grateful. She wouldn’t be able to deal with pity. "Come up, eat something. You’ve been here for hours."

Clarke took a deep breath and toyed with the lid of her bottle. "I needed… I needed to—"

Uncareful of her sweat, Lexa wrapped her arms around Clarke. Warm, comforting. This was Lexa, her mate, her wife. The woman she promised the world to—and who she now failed to keep promises to.

"We’ll be alright," Lexa said into Clarke’s messy ponytail, nudging at the scar she left there years ago. "I get that you’re angry. But don’t blame yourself, my love. This new treatment is available, and—"

"We only need that because I’m a fucking failure," Clarke confessed, and Lexa’s hands on her skin tightened their grip.

"Don’t say things like that." She pulled back and guided Clarke to meet her eyes with a hand on her chin. "You’re my wife, and I love you. All of you. Don’t say things like that about yourself."

"It still doesn't change the fact that I'm a half-baked alpha."

"If I were the one with a complication, would you say those things to me?"

Clarke swallowed. "Of course not."

"So please don’t say that." Lexa kissed her cheek. "I love you."

"I’m sorry." Clarke thought the hours of punching and sweating would keep the tears away, but here they were, strong and ugly and burning just like her hands. "I’m so sorry that I can’t be the partner you need." Lexa held her. In the damp air of their basement, Lexa held Clarke and let her cry like the insolent pup she was.

"You’re exactly what I need," Lexa promised. "Nothing will change that."

Lexa was convinced. Clarke admired her for that. If only she could believe it.

0000

The image depicts a bright room with green plants in colorful pots framing the lonely chair in the center. The woman sitting on it is reading a paper, glasses low on her nose.

"Ready to roll, Mrs. Woods?" The soprano voice asks from behind the lenses. Lexa folds the paper, and a blur of a person picks it up from her hands. A similar inscription from before appears on the bottom left: Lexa Woods. Clarke Griffin’s mate and wife. 38 years old. Female Omega.

"Yes," Lexa says, folding her reading glasses and placing them in her front shirt pocket. "Whenever you’re ready."

"Have you ever dated another Alpha before meeting Clarke?"

Lexa’s facial expression does not change as she says, "No."

"When did either of you suspect something was wrong?"

Lexa sits straighter in the chair, her lips twitching twice before she finally says, "We were mated and married for six years when we tried to conceive." She pauses, crossing and uncrossing her legs. "We had never knotted before, so we had no idea what to expect. But eventually, we realized something was wrong."

"Was it a mutual realization?"

"Clarke noticed it first. But I don’t think she brought it up until it was unavoidable."

0000

Clarke never knew there was something wrong with her. She never really thought that she might be a little off until Liam. Anya had just started showing, complaining about Clarke's food and everything else.

"I didn’t know you were planning for a baby," Clarke said, hands soaked in bubbles. "But I’m really glad for you, Raven." They could hear their wives laughing from the dining room.

"Planning?" Raven snorted, shaking the kitchen towel to get another plate to dry. "That kid planned itself. That is, I really wasn’t planning to knot, but it happened, and well, in five months there will be a pup around. Get used to the idea."

Clarke frowned at the fork she was washing and watched the suds drip down the metal surface. "What do you mean you didn’t plan to knot?"

Raven placed a dry plate on the rack. "I was in rut. You know." She shrugged, and Clarke honest-to-god did not know.

"Do you always knot when you rut?"

"If I’m not super-extra-careful, yeah. Don’t you?" Raven asked in a laugh, but stopped at seeing whatever was going on with Clarke’s face. "Don’t you?" she repeated. Clarke felt her face warming.

She looked back at the fork. There was a stubborn piece of potato stuck to it.

0000

They talked about it. Extensively. They talked about costs, space, and time. But Clarke knew what the decision would be since the day Lexa had seen little Liam—all red-faced and crying his lungs out in Anya’s arms—and some maternal instinct sparked to life in her.

They wanted a baby.

The bed creaked with Clarke’s vigorous thrusts. Lexa met her push for push, her hips seeking Clarke’s in tandem. Lexa was not a passive omega; she took what she wanted, and Clarke loved her for that. She loved her mate, she loved her wife, and now she loved that they would make a new life together.

"Are you close?" Lexa panted in her ear.

Clarke nodded, her cheek hitting Lexa’s chin in the process. None cared. "Yeah. I think," she exhaled, slowing their movements to adjust her hips. Lexa moaned. "I’m not sure how long it takes," Clarke breathed, hoping her tone was steady.

"I have no idea." Lexa kissed her neck, licking the mating bite there. "It’s the first time we’re doing this." It should feel exciting. Lexa sounded excited. Clarke wasn’t sure.

Don’t you?

Sometimes she thought about Raven’s puzzled look when she admitted she had never knotted. But her friend had patted her on the back and said that each person was different. Clarke had never really tried to knot, so it was alright.

But right now, in rut, Clarke was actively trying, and Lexa had come twice, and they had changed positions twice as much, and Lexa would get sore, and Clarke could not get her damn knot to work.

"Come back to me." Lexa’s hands massaged the tight clench of Clarke’s jaw. They slowed until they stopped. Lexa sighed, but Clarke continued to pant. "What’s wrong, love?"

Clarke didn’t know. Or she did, and she did not want to voice it, because then it would be real, and Lexa would care, and they would have to go to doctors, and Clarke would be a failure as a wife.

"Clarke?" Puzzled, Lexa leaned back to find Clarke’s eyes, but Clarke avoided them. Clarke pulled out, their gasps mangling for a moment before she left the bed. "Clarke?" Naked and worried, Lexa followed her into their bathroom. The room smelled of sweat and sex. "What’s wrong?"

Clarke splashed water on her face and looked down at herself. Her erection, covered in Lexa, had an uneven swell at the base. She touched it, one large palm pressing on it, but she barely felt it. It wasn't like other alphas talked about it. It was like she was numb. Lexa watched from the door, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Are you going to talk to me or—"

"I don’t think I can knot."

There. It was real.

0000

Clarke drinks from a water bottle while an assistant runs the mic check. A voice behind the camera mumbles, "We should try asking anyway." A new light turns on at Clarke’s right and she squints at it.

"So Clarke," the same voice from before says, now louder. "How were the side effects of the injection?"

Clarke takes another drag from her water bottle, her eyebrows rising at the question. She places the bottle next to her chair.

"Like almost everything about this treatment, it totally sucked."

0000

"Fucking hell!" Clarke breathed through her nose, hard and gasping, her hands white with the effort of holding on to their granite sink. "Give me a moment," she gasped.

Lexa kissed her cheek, brushing the sweat away. "I got you," she whispered, always calm and serene during Clarke’s outbursts.

Clarke had been all courage and bravado until the needle—bigger than what it looked like in the doctor’s office—touched her knot. The injection site felt like fire, and every day the pain got worse. She knew it would be like this, at least until her knot inflated for the first time, and hell, that was another headache she wasn’t ready to think about just yet.

"If it hurts like that, it means it’s working," Lexa tried to argue, which did not help with the fact that Clarke’s cock was on fire. "Blood is flowing there for the first time, honey," Lexa continued to sooth, an ice bag in hand, ready for the aftercare. "Most alphas take years to go through what you’re going through in a few weeks. Give yourself some grace."

Clarke grunted, sat back on the closed toilet lid, spread her legs, and nodded. "Okay. Okay. I’m okay." Lexa kissed the top of her head and went for the second injection.

0000

Lexa hisses at something behind the camera, the mic turned off and not catching whatever accompanied the reprimand. The voice-only director clears her throat and says, "Patient 13’s, that is, Clarke’s file says her mate was the one administering the injections. That’s you." Lexa focuses on the right of the camera, sitting taller in her chair in the plant-filled room."How did you feel about that?"

"I’m not medically trained, but the mechanics of it weren't hard." She smiles, a small little thing under lights and makeup. She's aging gracefully. "Clarke was very vulnerable, and she trusted me. I would advise mates to give it a shot if they can handle the whining."

"Whining?"

"I suppose most alphas don’t take kindly to injections on their knots."

There is a chuckle off camera and a loud noise; someone else is yelling, "The mic is down!" and the off-camera voice comes back, "Cut, cut!" while Lexa chastises, "You two get down here!"

0000

Clarke woke up feeling like she had gone to hell. Everything burned. Her sleep shirt was soaked, her pajama shorts drenched, and her hair plastered to her forehead. As she sat up on the bed, she moaned, her muscles tensing. Lexa mumbled something next to her, that little sleepy snort she claimed she didn’t do every time she woke up.

"Fuck," Clarke gasped, holding on to the wall as she tried to stand up. Besides her entire body burning, her crotch ached with a pain-pleasure mix Clarke was not conscious enough to judge.

"Clarke?" Lexa asked from the bed as Clarke tumbled to the bathroom, half-awake and limping. Clarke almost fell as she kicked her shorts and sat in the bathtub, turning the water cold.

"Babe?" Wrapped in Clarke’s robe, Lexa remained on the threshold, her eyes suddenly awake. "Is it happening?"

Clarke looked at her and moaned, nodding. "It fucking burns," she whispered, and Lexa approached with caution.

"Do you want to be by yourself?" she asked, her naked feet silent on the bathroom tiles.

Clarke shook her head, extending a hand to Lexa. "Can you stay here with me?"

"Oh, my love." Lexa sat next to the bathtub, kissing Clarke’s burning cheeks. "Always."

0000

Clarke fidgets with her microphone again, and an assistant asks her to stop doing it. "And how did you feel when you could knot?" the director asks as Clarke looks up.

Clarke’s blush is more visible under the lights, and she touches an earring before answering, "Not everything about the treatment sucked."

0000

Lexa wouldn’t stop moaning. She was not always vocal, or at least not carelessly so, but as Clarke felt herself expanding inside her, Lexa wouldn’t stop the cadence of moans. Part of Clarke was worried, but most of her was lost in ecstatic bliss.

"Lex?" She gasped, her hips slowing as her range of motion was limited by her knot. "Talk to me, love," she insisted, because Lexa was tucked under her chin, an endless stream of incoherent words leaving her lips. As they slowed, spent and satisfied, finally tied, Lexa took another minute to simply gasp for air. Clarke held her, whispering small nothings. She tasted salt on Lexa’s cheeks. "Lex?"

"I’m—" Lexa tried, and they moaned together as she moved her hips. It wouldn’t budge; people were not kidding about that part. "Fuck," Lexa said, the first coherent thing in the last few minutes.

"That good?" Clarke wiggled her hips, and they moaned again, and Lexa slapped her back.

"Stop moving for a bit," she hissed. "But yeah, that good." Clarke nudged Lexa’s nose with her own, a delicate gesture like a small island in the middle of a sea of intense love making. "Are you good?" Lexa asked, finally taking a deep breath. Clarke nodded and nuzzled into Lexa’s nose again.

"I love you."

Lexa kissed her temple, and they shared a breath. "I love you too."

0000

"Why are we here?" the little girl in Clarke’s lap asks, looking up at her.

"To tell our story, baby." Clarke kisses the tops of her dark curls.

"Hello," the director calls from behind the camera, and the little girl’s attention moves away from Clake. "Hi," she repeats, "what’s your name?"

The girl looks up at Clarke, who nods, and then back at the camera. "Serah."

"How old are you, Serah?"

She proudly shows one hand with all five fingers and another two fingers on her other hand.

"That’s seven, right?" Serah nods, a missing incisor showing in her smile.

"She’s our oldest," Clarke chimes in, pulling her daughter a little closer. "The twins are three."

The image cuts to Lexa’s set, with two boys running around her chair as she types something on her phone. It cuts back to Clarke.

"So you can say, a hundred percent, that the treatment works," the director continues, and Clarke nods.

"It changed our lives."

The image shifts to a different set, with the entire family present. Clarke has a hand around Lexa’s waist, with Serah reaching up to her belly while the twins don’t get above her waist. Lexa placed each hand behind the twins' necks, keeping them in place.

"You have a beautiful family. Three beautiful, healthy pups," the voice from behind the says, and both Clarke and Lexa blush. Serah giggles, and the twins start poking each other. A silent conversation goes on between the mated pair, and it ends with a nod from Lexa.

"We’re actually expecting a fourth," Clarke reveals, one of her hands landing on the twin closest to her. The boys stop their poking.

"Congratulations! I guess three were not enough?"

"They’re definitely a handful," Clarke says as she picks up one of the twins, his blonde hair messed up by his brother’s hands. "This last one kind of… planned itself." She blushed, and Serah giggled again.

"I guess we finally understood what other couples meant by accidents during ruts," Lexa jokes, and there’s laughter in the background of the set.

"What’s a rut?" Serah asks, and the laughter increases in volume, even with the director joining in with a chuckle.

"I believe that’s a cut," Clarke says, grinning at the camera.

The image fades into black, and a centered caption appears.

The Woods-Griffin family had a healthy baby girl.

As expected, she was also a handful.

#ask the owl #prompts #look at me writing prompts like a normal author #art art art #write write write #I tried new things with this one #I hope you liked it dear anon #clexa #clexa fanfic #the 100 fanfiction

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gauloiseblue · 12 days

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This type of comment is free therapy for me tbh

#like. you're so kind for leaving a comment??? do I even deserve it??? 😭😭😭#i know interaction is important for writers. but sometimes we gotta accept that most readers are silent. so i tried not to think abt it #but when i got these long comments. I literally fell on the floor because?????#my dear?? you took the time to write for me????#😭😭😭😭😭😭#i hope when the angels see you at the gate. they'll let you in without question

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pettyprocrastination · 1 year

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ngl but i think if a kid wrote a letter to santa about wanting an abusive family member out of the house he’d slyly send the letter down some little magical mail chute and itd end up in hell where krampus would read it and then show up to that house on christmas eve to give that kid a nice new bike and a teddy bear under their tree before dragging their peice of shit dad down to the underworld for eternal torture.

#tj talks #i just think. monsters are neat. especially holiday themed ones #krampus sets a nice new bike under the tree before going to kill somebody's deadbeat father. slay #i totally forgot about that one short story i tried to write like. two years ago about krampus visiting a little girl in place of santa #in a sort of 'you have the stomach to deal with this' type of way almost like krampus is a hitman for shitty parents. anyways <3 #i should write that this season. as a treat #'santa?' 'no. but im a dear friend of his and he sent me personally' grins wide full of fangs but the little one trusts them nontheless #handing a soft nice teddy bear to her that she hugs to her chest #'but that wasn't the only thing on your list. was it?' and she slowly shakes her head #krampus sending her back to her room with a gentle pat on the head before walking *clopping?? because hoofs* to the parents room #she wakes up to plenty of presents under the tree and police in her hosue as her mother explains the sudden dissapearance and having #no idea what happened

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bumblingbabooshka · 1 year

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Can you imagine if Tuvok got divorced? It’d be so funny, I just know that guy would completely give up on everything. He’d need like, several decades to recover. I think he might go become a Kolinahru for real this time.

#If Tuvok got the breakup letter instead of Janeway the rest of Voyager would be spent with him on the floor #Janeway: Tuvok what's that ship doing?#Tuvok: Aiming phasers.#Janeway: !?!?!? RAISE SHIELDS!??#Tuvok: -doing so reluctantly- I hope we explode.#I made this post bc I read every tuvok shipping fic I find and in most of them its said that he and his wife just bond broke up #which does make it easier to write romance without him cheating I'll grant you that but I think if this man's wife broke up with him #he'd be way too devastated to kiss anyone #Janeway: I got a dear John letter from Mark....it's sad but I sort of knew it was coming. I suppose this leaves me free to pursue oth-#Tuvok: T'Pel had ended our marriage and with it she might as well have ended my life. -drinks another chocolate milk which Neelix pours him-#Tom tries to cheer him up by saying now he's free to date again and Tuvok really considers killing him #I always smile whenever in the fic Tuvok's like 'my wife broke up with me v_v its fine and logical. I don't feel any way about it.'#Sure you don't Tuvok >) I earnestly don't mind it it's funny to me and very small ~!#I was just thinking about what I think would happen if T'Pel actually did divorce him and I think he'd just collapse

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deadlysoupy · 11 months

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ok but if i had the power to draw i would be unstoppable

#there are so many goofy ideas that i cant fit into a writing piece bc theyre too short and stupid #but if i could draw tho. mom why did you decide to not let me go to art school #she wanted to!!! what stopped you dear mother!!!!!!#and god knows i cant draw for shite. i tried. didn workd......#i just woke up sorry my brain is gwood

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goldfinwrites · 2 years

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Xani rolled over, wincing as their elbow slammed against the wood floor, before staring blankly at the ceiling. Kay was sleeping on their bed, and they could hear him breathing irregularly. Another nightmare, they figured, and felt an uncomfortable numbness instead of worry. They cared about Kay, Xani reminded themself, and got up as he let out a sharp gasp.

“Hey, Kay…” Xani shook his shoulder, trying to wake him up.

He groaned, still asleep.

“Kay…” Xani whispered louder, trying again.

He jerked away, bolting upright, panting. “Don’t…”

“Kay, it’s me. It’s okay.”

“Xani…?” His voice was still drowsy, but he calmed down. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?’

“No, I couldn’t sleep. Another nightmare?”

“Mmm.” He nodded, placing his hand over Xani’s, which was still on his shoulder. “Sorry for making you wake me.”

“It’s alright.” Xani held his hand gently and shifted to sit on the bed next to him. “Did you want to talk about it?”

“No, not really.”

“Okay.” Xani mentally fished around for something else to say. “Do you think you’ll be able to go back to sleep?”

“In a little bit. For now, can you just talk?”

“About what?”

“Yourself! Maybe a story from when you were little?”

Xani hesitated, but gave in to Kay’s smile, dimly visible under the scattered moonlight. They started to share a memory from when Lana had taken them to the library. They had wanted a specific movie, one a classmate had talked about at school, and she was happy to indulge them. The movie wasn’t available, but Lana had helped them find another one. She had gone all out to set up a movie night, making popcorn and buying pizza.

Xani paused, unsure of how to continue, and felt Kay squeeze their hand.

“My, um, mom had come home before the movie ended. So we ended up watching it all together, the three of us.” The sentences felt like unspooling a tangled ball of yarn. “And I fell asleep before the credits, so her and Lana had to pick everything up.”

Kay waited until Xani was finished. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah.”

An uncomfortable pause.

“Uh, ready for bed again?” The words sounded thin and hollow.

“Well…” Kay trailed off, then shifted over. “Um, if it’s not a problem, could you stay? Like just sleep here?”

Xani froze, then forced their mouth to move. “S- Okay. If that would help.” Their heart beat wildly inside their ribcage and they swallowed, feeling mild nausea rolling in their stomach. They needed to be there for him, even if he had gotten way clingier recently in a way that made their skin itch.

“Thanks. I’m… sorry for being such a burden all the time.”

Xani’s throat felt clogged. “You’re not a burden.” They were lying, but didn’t know how else to phrase the jumble of thoughts that buzzed in their head.

They crawled in next to Kay, ignoring how uncomfortably warm the bed was. The covers moved with every rise and fall of his chest and the edges of his hair tickled their own. “Better?”

Kay hummed, quietly. “Yeah, thanks. And sorry. Again.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” It’s my fault. Not yours.

“S- yeah.” Kay rolled onto his side. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Xani stared at the ceiling again, trying to make sense of the man next to them. He had been a burden, but they knew agreeing with him would only make him upset. Him being a burden wasn’t as bad as he seemed to think it was, really. Especially because they wanted him back, had wanted him back badly enough to erase, destroy, kill, murder Clive and Jasper to do it. No matter how much trouble Kay put them through, they couldn’t leave him alone. He was suffering because of their selfishness.

Their heart had sunk to the base of their stomach. Did they make the right choice? They cared about Kay, enough that it hurt, but was forcing him to be like this, lost and aching, worth it? With or without his memory, Kay was still Kay, they had decided. But the way he stuck to them, only wanting the same things they did, trying to mold himself to them, carved an ugly scar into their chest. They wanted Kay, not a sycophant suppressing his personality to please them.

Neither of them were happy with this sick compromise from that stupid, lying goddess. But Xani knew how to take accountability for their decisions, so they would stay with Kay as long as he wanted them. The way he attached himself to them, whining when they left even for a minute, made them uncomfortable, but they knew he was desperately seeking solace in the only person that linked the conglomeration of identities inside of him.

Even when Gray had insisted on the daily calls, they knew even if Jasper reappeared to hurt them, they wouldn’t pry themselves away from Kay. They refused to tell either their father or Kay, though, knowing both would get angry and argue about their lack of self-preservation. Would it not be their penitence to suffer as Kay is, though, for selfishly wishing him back, even if they didn’t know the full cost?

Kay had fallen asleep, so Xani sat up and looked at him. He was curled up towards the wall, his small frame unwound from the earlier tension. They reached out, gently placing a hand on his head.

“I’m so sorry, Kay.” Xani whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear them. “I’m so unbelievably sorry.”

They withdrew their hand, their breath coming in short breaths as their body shook. Tears threatened to spill out the corners of their eyes, but they dug their nails into their palm. Xani refused to cry, especially not near Kay, who needed them to be strong, at least for now, until he pieced himself back together. Pressing their jaw shut, they inhaled and exhaled slowly through their nose until their vision cleared.

Whatever combination of Kay, Clive, and Jasper that the man next to them stitched himself into, Xani knew they would care about him until their heart stopped. They had tried to let him know it was okay to not try and replace the past version of Kay, to be his own Kay, but couldn’t find the words to convince him that they would still love the person he wanted to be.

This was temporary, and Xani gripped that thought tightly enough to make themself bleed. Gray and Lana could find a good therapist for him. Everything would be okay. Kay would be okay. All they needed to do was hold everything in place until then.

“Everything will be okay.” They spoke quietly into the darkness of their room before laying back down. They closed their eyes. “I’ll make everything okay.”

#heart fragment #xani green #kay jamison #fanfiction #goldfinwriting #i completely ignore my other WIPs and instead write this #oops but i promise ill get back to them eventually #LOOK I AM OBSESSED WITH KAY'S ROUTE #though i didnt think xani handled things the same way i would i think they tried their best #but being hurt kay didnt have his memories was less of a thing for me than Oh My God I Killed Two People To Bring Him Back And He's Sufferin #g Dear God What Have I Done

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rapha-reads · 9 months

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No, seriously, what the FUCK is going on with this summer. Why is everything so weird and happening all at once.

I need it all to stop because I don't know how much longer I can deal with the weirdness.

Personal rant below, to avoid spamming your dash.

My mother cheats with a guy 32 years younger than her. Alright. She wants a divorce from my father and starts spewing shit about him. Um, okay. My father goes into depression, rage, pain, stability, rince and repeat. Sure, no problem, I know his character and I understand what's going on with him right now. My own anger, pain and incomprehension can take the backseat.

My father's water well suddenly stops working for 3 weeks, impossible to water the trees in the middle of a summer from hell. Problem, but after weeks of checking everything, wasting money on pieces of the pump and ferrying around workers, we manage to find that the problem is neither the pump nor the water levels, but the pipe that was cracked on like 5cm and it only needed to be cut. 3 weeks and thousands of dirhams wasted for nothing. Really annoying.

Weird lights in the sky, sudden gusts of wind carrying around sand and dust, heat, no rain, dry storms... Yeah. Eerie on the good days, downright creepy scary on the bad days.

The dog next house that we go give water every couple of days to avoid seeing him die of neglect before our eyes, climbing the wall and improvising a machinery to get him water. Weird, but okay. The owner of the dog actually made an appearance, my father scolded him in his very polite but firm way, told him that I was giving the dog water and to leave the rope we se to get the jerrycan, the owner agreed (he's a distant cousin of my father, welcome to Moroccan countryside, family tree more like family maze).

But now, half an hour ago, my dad is chilling in the garden talking with one of his cousins, my sister is inside reading, I'm on the veranda reading, all lights are turned off, when suddenly there's a guy entering the backyard where we have a peach tree with a couple of green peaches and the windows of our bedrooms. He just. Jumped down a wall, stole a peach, run across the backyard in front of my sister's room where she was about to get changed, climbed the back stairs and jumped over another wall.

... WHAT.

And then my father apparently saw him from the garden, and barefoot went running after him, and apparently ran around the entire village after him, met one of his cousins and his nephew, came back home without catching the guy (not even a guy, a teenager, 15-16yo). Sister and I are just about giving up on trying to understand the weirdness of the entire summer, deciding on going to give water to the dog before going to bed. I'm reaching the top of the wall when suddenly my uncle, his wife, his brother-in-law, my two cousins, my father's cousin that was there at the beginning all arrive. Oh, I forgot to mention, it's HALF PAST MIDNIGHT.

I'm. I'm fucking giving up, how in the name of SANITY am I supposed to write a bloody master's thesis in these circumstances??? I forgot to mention my sister's heart problems, the people building houses all around my dad's field and the weird encounters we have with these foreigners who already know of our reputation (did I mention that my father is kinda famous/infamous in the region because he doesn't bow down to the corrupted authorities like everyone else... That brings troubles too), the countless taxi trips to get to the town to by groceries and counting every coin because we have neither car nor money, both belonging to my mother, my mother moving houses, my mother in general...

I AM DONE. (they say, knowing full well they can't actually be excused from the narrative because their most important people need them)

#personal rant #don't mind me #just exteriorizing the sheer mad weirdness we've been experiencing all summer #summer from hell #my life as a telenovela #rapha rambles #is anyone else experiencing everything all at once all the time? just weird day upon weird day with only some moments of quiet?#i have never had such a bizarre summer as i'm currently having #i'm supposed to be focused on writing my thesis and finding a new flat and a job #not whatever all of this is #and i can't actually drop everything because that's what my dear mother did and someone need to pick up the slack #i just know that if i decide to give up and drop tail the weight will be on my little sisters shoulders #and my father will be one step closer to actually killing himself or letting himself die #and i just refuse to be that selfish. my mother turned out to be selfish and tries to pass it up as looking out for herself and just NO.#i just need one quiet week where NOTHING happens NOTHING AT ALL and i know i can write that thesis #but the weirdness is just piling up #one day 20 years in the future my sister and i will just write a book about this summer and it'll be a bestseller just wait for it #sorry tags are as long and ranting as the post. guess i have way too much to say. and i haven't talked much about my mother yet bloody hell #alright i'm done

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theflyingfeeling · 2 years

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How about number 7 for (t)twins? 👀

it's a J/J kinda evening 😌💕

(fun fact: I actually wrote a very different kind of version of this prompt first, but it wasn't fluffy enough and I wanted to challenge myself to write something short and sweet about J/J for change 😅 let me know if you want to read the longer and less fluffy version (with a lot more rain and pining!))

07. We’re arguing in the rain and you kiss me (1027 words)

“This was a stupid idea, Porko.”

“This was a great idea and you know it, Hokka, as are all my ideas, may I remind you.”

“All your other ideas are stupid too.”

Joonas slowed down his scooter to take a look at Google Maps again. The rain droplets falling on his phone had begun to grow in size and the muffled sound of thunder echoed from above them.

Their hotel shouldn’t be far away, but it seemed the busy streets of Berlin had played a trick on them and now they had been circling the same few blocks for almost 45 minutes in search of their accommodation. A few hours ago, when they had left on their little escapade, it had still been sunny and pleasantly warm, but now the dark blue clouds looming above the horizon were rapidly crawling towards them and the people in the plaza were opening their umbrellas in anticipation of the upcoming downpour.

“For fuck’s sake, it’s staring to rain,” Joel voiced his insightful observation, as if by now Joonas didn’t have to wipe his phone screen on his shirt every few seconds to keep it dry.

“Well, I’m awfully sorry controlling the weather is not in my power,” he mumbled.

“We could have just gone for drinks at the nice bar we saw the other night, but noooooo, Mr. Tourist just had to gawk at the Brandenburg Gate, as if you haven’t been here dozens of times before,” Joel kept on grumbling as he leaned on the handles of his rental bicycle.

“Oh, chill, drama queen, you can soon spent the whole fucking night at the hotel bar if you wish. Clearly it was my mistake to think it’d be fun to do something different for change.”

Joonas glared at Joel and turned back to his phone, but the more he looked at it, the less he knew which way they were supposed to be going, and the water smearing the screen of his phone only made him more tense about the situation.

“It clearly was, Joonas, for I would have never–”

“Yes, because you never anything, Joel! If it was up to you, we’d keep sulking inside the whole time like some fucking hermits because you’re as fucking paranoid about people these days as you are of the fucking harbour seagulls!” Joonas exploded, finally growing sick of the constant nagging from behind him.

He slipped his phone back in his pocket to protect it from the rain and hopped off his scooter to park it by the side of the brick wall decorated with colourful graffiti they had driven past at least five times by now. Then he sat on the steps of what looked like the back door of a restaurant and hugged his knees to his chest. The downpour was blasting on them at full force now, drenching their hair and all their clothes in a matter of seconds.

Joonas kept trying to swallow the hopeless sobs pooling in inside his chest; he really had thought going on a little downtown adventure would have helped them both relax after a long day of PR and meetings and content creation, and it probably would have, had the weather and the unreliableness of the damn map application ruined his grand plan to make out with Joel in every corner of downtown Berlin.

A sudden warmth spread to Joonas’ body from his left side as Joel sat next to him, just as wet and cold as he was, but still somehow radiating pleasant heat.

A quick kiss was planted on his cheek, so quick that Joonas wasn’t sure if he had imagined it.

“Hey,” Joel’s quiet voice sounded close to his ear. “I’m sorry.”

Joonas bit his lip to keep himself from saying something snarky in response, such as “you better be”, before he remembered how hard it could still sometimes be for Joel to get as sentimental as to apologise for his bratty behaviour; he was still struggling from time to time, learning how to be a good boyfriend, and Joonas intended to be there with him on every step of the way.

“I know,” Joonas nodded and turned his face to peck Joel’s lips lightly. Joel, however, clearly had other thoughts as he deepened the kiss, catching Joonas’ bottom lip in between his own, which Joonas was happy to allow him. Their rain-soaked hair kept dripping on their faces, and although he knew it was in vain, Joonas lifted his hands to dry Joel’s cheek, all the while leaning in for one more kiss after another.

Joel’s quiet giggle was the sweetest sound Joonas had ever heard when he began leaving small kisses all over Joel’s wet face and down his neck where he could still smell traces of the aftershave Joel had borrowed from him. He could never get enough of neither hearing Joel’s laughter nor mouthing at his long neck, but Joel’s hands guiding him back up to meet his kisses forced him to do so nevertheless. Luckily sliding his tongue against Joel’s was the perfect alternative, especially when he could hear soft whines leaving Joel’s throat.

“Joonas,” Joel said, breaking their lips apart once more. “I just… You know I don’t actually think your ideas are stupid, right?”

The genuine, sort of worried look in Joel’s bright eyes would have been enough to convince Joonas, had he not already known the truthful state of affairs even without Joel’s sincere confession.

“Like… the one you had about going to Eurovision turned out to be a pretty good one, at least.”

“‘Pretty good’, you say? Really?” Joonas scrunched his nose as if irritated, but still couldn’t help but bump it against Joel’s softly.

“One of your best, I admit,” Joel smiled. “Way better than this one, anyway.”

“You think so?” Joonas leaned close enough to easily take Joel in for another kiss but just far enough to keep the man on the edge. “Why, I’m afraid it’s just a matter of perspective.”

Then he pushed Joel by his shoulders until his back hit the stone paving flooding with rainwater and leaned over him to connect their lips again.

#blind channel #blind channel rpf #blind channel fanfiction #spring fluff by theflyingfeeling #man this really was a challenge but i tried! 😅#writing moody j/j is much easier for me 🤔#i hope this was worth the wait dear anon 🥺

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