#I have to set up a new life in a new country where I don’t know anyone and I have never lived before

[morallyinept]

Veneration - A Frankie Morales x Deaf F!Reader One Shot

Written as part of my B O D I E S Series 🤎

BODIES MASTERLIST

Summary: Living in a world with no sound, you meet an incredible man who is able to communicate with you on a deeper level, transcending spoken words.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Deaf F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader in terms of ethnicity, Reader does have hair. Reader is deaf and only has one functional ear.)

Word Count: 6.6k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️ “It's the emergence, of."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

Triggers & Warnings: Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M & F receiving/fingering/Reader is deaf and only has one functional ear/mentions of scars/alcohol consumption/burly men fighting in a ring for sport.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: It's important to me that all types of readers are represented in my work, therefore this collection of stories is written for readers with REAL bodies. However, anyone can enjoy them. Whilst this story may not specifically represent your own personal journey, it is my hope that it resonates and offers comfort and enjoyment. The condition/disability mentioned in this story is not 'one size fits all' - everyone's journey is personal and unique, and I have undertaken as much research as I can to write accurately and respectfully. 🤎

MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

The sultry night air of the Floridian dusk hangs swampy over the bustling streets, thick with the scent of saltwater and sunscreen as you and your rag-tag bunch of friends amble your way towards the local arena. 

The palm-fringed boulevards are slowly dyed in pastel pinks and golden hues from the setting sun as you navigate through the gritty streets and wayward bodies, their conversations echoing off the walls around you like shards of shattered glass.

Each fragment carries a piece of the shrapnel cacophony that threatens to pierce through the fragile barrier of your senses. The discordant strains of country music from a nearby honky-tonk drifts through the crackled air as you pass, their twangy melodies a familiar backdrop to the rhythm of everyday life in Fort Walton Beach.

You catch jarred snippets of conversation as you struggle to keep pace, the incessant buzzing in your ear like a droning hornet where your aid is kicking up a stink; the constant hum of static and feedback grates on your nerves like sandpaper rubbed furiously against your ear canal.

It’s been doing this for a while and you really should get a new one, chastising yourself for your put off till tomorrow mantra. The aid emits a disconcerting array of noises as it’s been slowly malfunctioning, enduring weeks of pitchy screeches and low humming din.

It started with a subtle crackling, like the static of a radio searching for a signal between undecided stations. Then accompanied by intermittent bursts of high-pitched metallic screams, akin to feedback from a microphone placed too close to a speaker.

Occasionally, you’ll hear distorted fuzzes of conversation or ambient sounds either unbearably loud, or warped and muffled as if heard underwater. These fragmented noises only add to your frustration, teasing you with glimpses of the auditory world that lies just beyond your reach without your trusty hearing aid.

As the malfunction worsens, the noises grow more erratic and pronounced, escalating into a chaotic riot of glitches and distortions. It’s as if your hearing aid is rebelling like a stroppy teenager and plunging you into a whirlwind of loud and jarring sounds that make you physically jump.

You wince as the noise grows louder, accompanied by unpredictable bursts of high-pitched squeals that bore into your skull down to the frayed nerves of your teeth.

"Is everything okay?" One of your friends asks, concern evident in their hazy voice as they throw you a glance over their shoulder. 

Or at least you assume that’s what they say, on the account of the incessant squealing going on inside your only ear canal. 

You force a smile, trying to push aside the discomfort. "Just a little pitchy," you reply, using your hands to convey the words as you sound them out, barely able to hear your voice and hoping to downplay the severity of the situation. 

But if anything you’re expecting it to get worse, especially in the arena. The prospect of navigating the crowds in there with your errant device fills you with frenetic dread. 

You would’ve preferred to have been sequestered away this evening, curled around a book and a nice glass of wine, slobbing it out in comfy sweats. Instead your friends have rail-roaded you into an impromptu night out, snatching up tickets to an MMA fight. Something you have no interest in whatsoever.

However the constant peer pressure in the group chat had forced you - seemingly at gunpoint - to embark on this manic adventure into uncharted territory of brawny muscle and sweat.  

It's going to be so much fun! They’d exclaimed, their eyes shining with anticipation, and you feigned an enthused nod back when they’d picked you up.

They’re not bad people, you love that they want to include you so much, even if it can be mildly suffocating at times. But occasionally, your friends can make assumptions about your abilities that leave you feeling frustrated and misunderstood. 

Born with only one functional ear, you’ve never known the stereo sound that most people take for granted. Instead, you navigate the world with one - the other not formed in the womb and blessing you with a little fleshy nubbin in place of a full ear, that your mom still to this day calls cute, even though you’re a fully grown ass woman - and relying on your other senses to fill the void left by your deafness.

Why don't you just turn up your hearing aid? They’ll ask, not realising that your device can't "fix" your deafness entirely, or that it often struggles to filter out loud background noise. There’s no happy medium - you either hear far too much or not enough with it. 

You strain to follow their conversations amidst the cacophony of voices and background sounds bleeding in at the best of times. But despite your efforts, you’re often struggling to keep up, and it creates a sense of frustration building inside you.

Your friends can often forget to speak clearly, or to face you directly when speaking, making it difficult for you to follow along if you can't lip read. And though you know that your scatterbrain chums love you dearly, there are moments when their lack of awareness about accessibility leaves you feeling isolated and unseen. 

Despite these challenges, you cherish your friendships deeply. You know that their intentions are always rooted in love and kindness, even if they sometimes fall short of understanding the unique experiences and needs associated with your deafness.

And venues with loud noises are probably the worst places they drag you to. 

You know all too well the challenges that await you in environments like nightclubs - throbbing music, flashing lights, and crowded dance floors - all of which threaten to overload your already strained senses. More often than not, you go along anyway despite your reservations, not wanting to dampen their spirits or, more importantly, feel left out.

But moments like those are a stark reminder of the invisible barriers you face as someone living with hearing loss. Trying to steer the world around you, there are times when the overwhelming sensory input threatens to engulf you entirely, leaving you feeling alone in a crowd of well-meaning friends.

Your journey with hearing loss hasn't just impacted your friendships - it’s also left its mark on your romantic encounters. Over the years, you’ve experienced your fair share of heartaches as you've traversed the complexities of love and intimacy. Encountered many partners who struggled to understand the daily realities of living with hearing loss. Some were well-meaning but clueless, their attempts at communication often falling flat as they failed to grasp the nuances of your unique experiences.

Others were less understanding, their impatience and frustration bubbling to the surface whenever you struggled to hear or communicate effectively. And you’d endured countless arguments and misunderstandings, your self-esteem taking a hit with each passing day as you wondered if you’d ever find someone who truly accepted you for who you are.

But despite the setbacks and disappointments, you refuse to give up hope. The right person will come along. At some point. 

As you reach the entrance to the moderately local and small arena, your patience reaches its breaking point as a loud, shrill screech rips through your ear making you audibly grumble.  

Crowds of enthusiastic spectators, dressed in an array of attire, ranging from casual jeans to flashy sequined dresses, stream towards the entrance, their excitement palpable in the air. Inside, the atmosphere crackles with anticipation and mingles with the faint scent of sweat and spilled beer.

The walls are adorned with posters advertising past events, their colours faded with age, but their messages still bold and enticing. The floor is scuffed and worn from years of use and mildly sticky under the soles of your sneakers.   

At the centre of it all stands the ring, bathed in a chalky spotlight that illuminates the weathered canvas like a stage awaiting its performers. Despite its moderate size, the arena is filled to the brim with eager fight fans, their voices rising in anticipation as they await the evening's main grapple event. 

Your friends scatter, some heading for the bar, others pulling you with them further into the crowd as it grows. As the arena lights dim, casting shadows across the sea of faces around you, two fighters emerge from opposite corners of the ring, their presence commanding attention.

And it’s at this moment your aid decides to completely flip out as you clutch your head in searing pain. 

With little choice and a swift motion, you reach in and pluck the offending device from your ear, relief flooding through you as the noise abruptly ceases. In the absence of the chaotic glitches and distortions, your ear strains to detect even the faintest whisper of sound.

The world around you seems to lose its shape and form, dissolving into a hazy blur of muted colours and indistinct shapes. The perpetual silence that now greets you is jarring and disorienting, encountering a profound emptiness, a void where once there had been a relentless assault on your senses, now reduced to a fuzzed quiet.

Despite the presence of people milling about around you, you suddenly feel utterly alone, trapped in a silent prison of your own making.

With each passing moment, your perception of the world shifts, shrinking away from you almost, your other senses recalibrating to the newfound peace that envelops you.

Your friend nudges you and points to the ring, mouthing words at you that you can’t read from their lips in the dark shadows, or hear. So you shrug and point to your broken aid in your fingers, and they pout sympathetically at you, turning their gaze back to the ring, leaving you somewhat bereft. 

With little else to do, you watch the fight full of disdain. The first fighter, a towering figure with muscles rippling beneath his skin, exudes confidence with every step.

His jaw is set in determination, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on his opponent and honey hair slicked back. Your friend nudges you again, silently giggling and you assume it’s because she thinks he’s attractive and you roll your eyes with a lazy smirk. 

With lightning-fast reflexes, the fighter launches himself forward, unleashing a flurry of punches aimed at his opponent's defences. His fists move like pistons, each strike packed with raw power and precision and it makes you wince. 

The atmosphere reaches a fever pitch, the crowd erupting into silent cheers and applause around you with each punch exchanged between the combatants.

You find yourself swept up in the spectacle, eyes fixed on the action unfolding before you and imagining how bad those punches must sound. You can feel the energy of the crowd pulsating through you, a primal rhythm that resonates on a visceral level as you glance about at focused faces pulled back into enthusiastic snarls and fists pumping the air.

You reach for your purse slung across your shoulder, intending to stow the broken hearing aid away until you can have it replaced.

But just as you’re about to tuck it safely inside, a sudden jolt sends you stumbling forward, your fingers losing their grip on the fragile device.

Time seems to slow as you watch in horror as the hearing aid slips from your grasp, tumbling down into a dark sea of denim clad legs.

No!

Desperately, you reach out to grab the falling device, but it’s too late. Your hearing aid lands on the hard floor, disappearing amidst the crowd of stamping spectators.

Heart pounding, you push your way through, frantically searching for any sign of it. But amidst the chaos and darkness of the arena, it’s impossible to spot.

You turn to get your friends' attention but they're not there, realising you’ve been swept further into the crowd and closer to the ring as it surges. You can’t spot their faces so obviously and it starts to panic you.

Fighting your way through towards a gap, you feel a soft tap on your shoulder and turn abruptly to see a man standing before you.

He’s holding out the broken aid in what seems to be a gigantic palm, with a sympathetic expression.

The silence suddenly becomes deafening, save for the gentle thudding felt in your chest. 

With rugged tan features softened by a warm smile, his face is lined with bronzed skin and a dusting of stubble across his jawline that’s greying in patches.

A well-groomed moustache adorns his upper lip. Beneath a worn, navy baseball cap, tufts of brown curls peek out, framing his face in a halo of unruly waves.

His eyes, a piercing dark brown, sparkle with a hint of mischief behind the steely gaze. 

With a mixture of relief and trepidation, you accept the aid, your fingers trembling as you inspect the damage. The casing is cracked, the delicate components exposed to the harsh arena lights as they strobe.

Before you can try to communicate your thanks, the man’s hands move with a fluid grace as he offers his assistance. 

“Are you okay?” He signs to you, his eyes full of concern.

You raise your eyebrows back with a stunned look. With a shaky smile and nodding, you sign back, “thank you.”

The man's eyes remain fixed on you as you finally tuck the aid into your purse for safekeeping and then sigh in defeat, noting his expression is one of genuine concern. 

He signs again, his hands moving with confidence through the air. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

You keep his gaze with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "I don't think so." You sign back, your hands moving hesitantly as you try to convey your frustration. "It's broken."

"I'm sorry it got damaged." He signs.

Despite your immense disappointment, you can't help but feel a sense of warmth towards the stranger who’s come to your assistance. 

"Thank you for finding it, I really appreciate it," you sign, your hands moving with more confidence.

A smile tugs at the corners of the man's lips as he signs back. "Of course. I'm glad I could." His eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief as he adds, "can I buy you a drink to make up for the disappointment at least?"

Your heart skips a beat at the unexpected offer. You hesitate for a moment, throwing a glance over your shoulder for one last look for your friends, before nodding, a shy smile playing at your lips. 

"Sure. I'd like that," your hands betray your nervousness as they dance through the air.

He leads you through the crowd, throwing a smile back over his shoulder as you follow him to the bar.  

“Do you drink beer?” He asks with his fingers shaping into words. 

“A beer would be great.” You nod. 

You watch as he leans in over the bar to the tender and fishes his wallet out from his back pocket. Your eyes take to wandering over his broad frame swathed in a mustard corded jacket and long legs in scuffed denim. He offers you a red plastic cup and you thank him.

“Are you deaf, too?” You tentatively ask him.

He shakes his head and his expression softens as he responds, “I learned ASL in the military.”

“Oh, the army?”

“Yeah. Or I was. Retired now.” 

You smile. “Were you based at Eglin?”

“Yeah, sometimes. More away than at home though.” He nods over to the ring as the two guys are still going at it and signs some more. "Are you enjoying the fight?"

“My friends dragged me out. It’s not really my thing.” You sign with a crooked chuckle. 

He nods, smiling. “Yeah, me either. My friend is in the fight. The one in blue. His brother coaches him, we were all in the army together. Show of camaraderie, I guess. I dunno, I’ve seen enough violence.” He shrugs and then sips his beer.

His eyes dart towards the ring and then back at you where he smiles again. You can feel yourself warming all over, captivated by the man before you, drawn to the quiet strength and undeniable charisma that seems to emanate from every fibre of his being. 

He exudes an effortless coolness that belies his military background, while his easy demeanour suggests a man comfortable in his own skin.

But it’s his smile that truly sets him apart, a crooked grin that lights up his face as you both peep and gaze curiously at one another. There's a sincerity to his expression that draws you in, a sense of kindness around a prominent hooked nose, and compassion that transcends the rugged exterior.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, my name’s Francisco.” He signs.

“Nice to meet you.” You introduce yourself back and he smiles at your name. 

“My friends call me Frankie. Or Catfish.” He spells out with thick fingers. 

“Catfish? Do I even want to know?” You query.

“Callsign, mostly.” He smirks with glittery eyes. “Do you have anyone that can fix your aid?”

You shrug. “I’ve been meaning to get a new one. Might finally force me to now.” 

He nods as he sups at his beer, wet pink lips shining at you as he licks foam from them. 

Your breath catches in your throat, coming in shallow gasps as you struggle to compose yourself in the presence of this captivating man who won’t stop looking at you.

“Will your friends be missing you?” You enquire, swallowing through a dry throat no matter how much cool beer you gulp down. 

He shakes his head, reaching an arm up to scratch idly at the back of it as he repositions his cap.

“No. Too busy with Benny.” He nods over to the ring. “Will yours be missing you?”

“Probably not.” you sign dismally, aware that you can see them now in the crowd and they're all enthralled in the fight, completely unaware you’re missing. 

“Good. Then we can have another drink together.” Frankie signs smiling, and you nod eagerly, feeling dizzy with tingly anticipation.

As the fights unfold in the ring, you and Frankie find yourselves drawn together for most of the night at the bar, engaged in silent conversation and signing with an ease that colours your recent acquaintance vividly.

With each swift and confident exchange, you delve deeper into your experience of navigating a world you can’t hear most of the time.

You learn that Frankie is completely fluent in American Sign Language, due to his time in a division in the army he calls Delta Force, explaining it was crucial for missions where he had to be completely silent, while Frankie discovers that you’ve been deaf since birth.

You talk about music and favourite bands, leaning into the commonality of being Fleetwood Mac aficionados. You both love dogs and loathe cats, and he doesn’t have children, but has a nephew he adores like his own, and shows you a goofy picture of the two of them pulling faces as his phone lock screen. 

Despite the intensity of the fight unfolding before you, you’re both immersed in your own shared bubble, the fluid movements of your hands and smiles a stark contrast to the roar of the crowd around you both.

And you find that neither of you can stop smiling at one another. When Frankie smiles at you, it's like a burst of warmth illuminating the dimly lit arena like a solar flare. His eyes, alight with genuine kindness, crinkle at the corners into layered crow’s feet as his lips curve into a gentle, yet enticing arc.

And you feel a connection blooming between you as you discover common ground, unlike any you’ve experienced before. He makes you laugh, you feel it from the depths of your belly as it vibrates at the back of your throat.

He winks as he smirks at you, his dark chocolaty eyes linger on yours over the rim of his red plastic cup, that seems so tiny in his giant hands. He’s felt gently on your lower back, palm guiding you in closer to him to avoid getting knocked into by over-zealous patrons, and he smells so amazing up close.

The enticing scent of cloves and leather, like stepping into a well worn, yet loved jacket. Something spicy lingers under it, tickling your nose with its warm sweetness. 

Your friends eventually find you at the bar as the lights come up a little later, and one realises you haven't got your aid in when you sign to greet them. 

“Are you ready to leave?” They sign back to you and you turn towards Frankie hesitantly to say your farewell. 

“Actually, if you want, we could go get a bite to eat? I could drop you home later?” He suggests to you with adept hands, much to your friends’ surprise as they observe the both of you communicating in ASL quickly and confidently. 

Smiling, and wanting nothing more than to spend more time with him too, you nod at him before turning to your friends.

“I’m gonna stay with Frankie for a bit. You guys go on ahead. Talk to you later.” You sign to them. 

“Get it, girl.” One of them mouths and you smirk, hoping he doesn’t lip read too. 

Together, you both decide to head to a nearby burger joint, drawn in by the promise of hearty comfort food and casual ambiance.

And Frankie reaches for your hand, entwining your fingers in his through the crowds as the arena empties, and doesn’t actually let go until you’re sliding into the booth opposite him in the diner.

Your pulse quickens beneath your skin, thrumming in time with the rapid beat of your heart as you find yourself drawn inexorably closer to the explicitly gorgeous man before you.

Finding a cosy setting near the window, you both settle in, your silent conversation flowing effortlessly as you peruse the menu; the scent of sizzling beef and toasted buns wafting through the air.

Your mouth waters at the thought of sinking your teeth into a juicy burger piled high with all the fixings, while Frankie's eyes light up at the prospect of indulging in some chilli cheese fries on the side to share.

As Frankie places the order with the waitress, you find yourself feeling more relaxed and at ease than you have in a long time. There's something comforting about the simple pleasure of sharing a meal with a new friend, the warmth of your connection filling the air alongside the aroma of freshly cooked cow.

His easy laughter and genuine warmth, coupled with the ability to engage with you confidently in ASL, makes him seem like the perfect companion, someone who understands you in a way that few others do. 

He’s insanely attractive too, older and wiser, the grey in his beard indicating he might be in his mid-forties, a small swell of his tummy overhangs his jeans straining against the grey t-shirt underneath, as he sits back in the booth regarding you with a smile as you sign and share jokes. And he's so broad that it makes your insides clench each time your eyes skim over his shoulders.

But then you can't help but feel a flicker of self-consciousness creep in when he gently asks about your ear. A little nubbin of stumped skin revealed as you brush your hair past it, realising that you’ve forgotten all about it - so caught up in the connection you share that it no longer seems to matter.

But it's a part of yourself that you’ve spent years trying to hide, tucking it away beneath the layers of your hair like a secret you’re ashamed to reveal.

You brace yourself for his reaction, half-expecting a look of pity or discomfort to cross his face. But instead, you’re met with a warm smile and a gentle touch as he reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair away.

Frankie signs with a tender reassurance. "You don't have to hide it from me. I think you’re beautiful."

You smile, feeling incredibly heated as you reach for your drink. 

"You know," he signs, "I used to be a little self-conscious about something too."

Curiosity flickers in your eyes as you watch him sign. "Really?" You respond.

"Yeah. I was serving in the army," he begins, his gaze somewhat distant as he recalls the memories. "There was an explosion. I was lucky to survive, but I was pretty messed up. Ended up with horrific scarring from the burns. Had to have a skin graft.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the gravity of his words. You can't imagine the horrors he must have endured, the pain and suffering etched into every line of his tired, yet striking, face.

And yet, there's a strength and resilience in Frankie that you find utterly captivating - a bravery that shines through in the way he holds himself, despite the scars he carries, even if they’re not outwardly obvious.

"You're a hero," you sign, your hands trembling slightly with emotion. "Thank you for your service, soldier."

“Actually, it’s captain.” He simply salutes at you, fingers brushing the rim of his cap with a buoyant smirk and then a little wink as the waitress puts down your plates in front of you both.

“Captain Catfish.” You salute back, chuckling. 

You watch Frankie take a big bite of his burger, and your laughter suddenly bubbles up from deep within your chest. It's not his charming smile or his witty banter that elicits this sudden burst of amusement - it's the way he eats his pickle.

With a playful twinkle in his eye, Frankie takes a dramatic bite of the pickle, exaggerating the crunch with an over-the-top flourish. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he chews, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

You can't help but laugh at the sight, your heart swelling with affection for this man who seems to delight in the simple pleasures of life. In that moment, watching him enjoy his pickle with such gusto, you feel yourself falling hard for him already. 

“What?” He mouths with a curious grin. 

“I can’t stand pickles.” You wrinkle your nose after sticking your tongue out in mock disgust, as he wipes his furry lips with a napkin.

“Oh, shit…” he signs. You watch his smile dip and you query as to what’s wrong with that statement. 

“Well,” Frankie signs with deeply intense eyes, “if I taste of pickles, it means you won’t enjoy it when I kiss you.” 

You baulk. “You… want to kiss me?” 

He nods with a gleam. “I mean, I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you.”

You put your half-eaten burger down on your plate, completely stunned and feeling even more hot. Suddenly stifling inside the diner. 

His casual declaration sends a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins, mingled with a hint of nervousness that quickens your breath and sets your pulse racing again.

There's a magnetic pull between you, a chemistry that you can't ignore. You can't shun the way your skin prickles, all the way down your spine, how you’re squeezing your thighs together under the table so much that it throbs and feels delicious at the thought of him in between them.

You can’t deny that you haven't thought about kissing him yourself all night as your eyes drop to his lips as he licks them free of salt and ketchup.

You want to know what he’ll taste like, how that moustache will feel against your lips, how his scruff will feel between your thighs.

How gentle he’ll kiss you, how hard he’ll fuck you… 

You sense he’s thinking the same thing because Frankie plops his burger down on his plate too and suggests getting out of here, to which you’re only too eager to agree. 

And outside, Frankie makes good on his word about kissing you as he pulls you back gently by the elbow, cups your face in his giant hands and presses his lips to yours. 

The taste of each other is a sweet and heady blend of anticipation and desire. You taste the faint remnants of the burgers, mixed with the tang of Frankie's salty breath from the pickle, and the subtle hint of his cologne.

It's a delicious concoction that fills your senses, leaving you craving more and melding yourself to him with every passing moment.

Frankie's gentle touch traces patterns along your spine, the warmth of his skin pressing against you as he envelops you closer to him; his wet and explorative tongue circling around your own and your toes buzzing as you stand on tiptoes to reach him. 

Pulling away, and smirking, he signs if you want to go back to his place or to yours. You suggest yours, more for your own comfort and he agrees, taking your hand and leading you back to his Pickup. 

Once inside your home, it’s a frantic tug of removing clothes in between hot, wet kisses and tangles of trembling limbs. Your hands trail over his smooth, bronzed skin, card through his curls after knocking his cap off, and his own hands squeeze your hips and ass greedily. 

“You okay? Is this too fast?” Frankie signs, eyes dilated and lips plushly swollen from bruising kisses. 

You shake your head and signal that you want to continue. That you want him here. That you just want him inside of you.

You barely make it up the stairs, stopping as you both fumble and tug at clothes and grope hot flesh. Crashing on the bed, you watch breathlessly as he pulls your jeans and panties off, kissing up the insides of your thighs.

Propped up in the pillows, you watch him keenly between your legs as he slowly makes out with your skin.

Kissing and mouthing over your thighs as he pushes them up and apart, opening you up for him. Running his nose around and inhaling over your mound as his eyes flick up to you, dark and chasm-like as he smirks insidiously.

Frankie looks up at you as his tongue glides slowly through your folds, big brown eyes glazed darkly as your fingers twist inside his messy curls. Adept wet tongue rolling softly, but purposefully, over the throbbing nub of your clit, and you gasp as your legs shake on his broad shoulders, a jolt of electricity speeding through them. 

“You taste so good,” he signs with his fingers quickly before nuzzling his nose against your pussy again. 

His grip around your thighs tighten as he delves deeper, tongue dipping into your hole and sliding all the way up to your clit. 

You sigh out, head lolling back as your body shudders. He sucks intensely, lips vacuumed around it as you can feel his tongue gliding back and forth over it in his mouth. 

You pull tighter on his hair, panting and feeling the coil tighten and pull inside your core.

He looks up at you again as his middle finger slides into you with ease, you’re soaked. He nods at you with a raised brow and mouths “good?” around shiny lips.

You nod with a breathy smile and gasp as he slides in another, using his fingers to pry you open so he can stroke and fuck whilst he licks and sucks.

You moan out as he pumps and licks at your pussy, bringing you to a giddy and twinkly orgasm as you shake and buck, pulling tighter on his curls. Your thighs thrum around his head, and he watches you whilst latched to your cunt, spilling warm slick into his mouth.

You tug his chin towards you, soft scruff soaked, devouring his mouth with yours as you whine and taste yourself around his lips.

You reach for his belt before he pulls away, leaving you chasing the ghost of his kiss as he stands.

Shucking his jeans off your eyes fall onto the large cluster of scars that adorn the left side of his hip, thigh and lower leg. Puckered white slashes that mar his tanned flesh, and he smiles softly at you as you reach out to stroke over them.

Faded, craggy lines in his skin as he strokes through your hair and his thumb brushes back and forth against your little nubbin for an ear.

"Beautiful," he mouths at you with soft eyes as the feel of it makes your skin tingle.

Glancing up at him, he’s biting his lip; eyes dark like oil as he guides your hand across his hip to the thick cock tenting in his boxers. 

He’s so hard as you stroke and squeeze gently, a dark patch soiling his boxers where he’s leaking arousal into them. 

Frankie submits as you pull him down onto the bed and crawl over him, kissing over his chest into the soft swell of his stomach. Mouthing and stroking explorative digits over his golden skin. 

Flat and spread with his neck craning up to watch you reveal him - a swollen, tanned cock with a pink, dripping head. Lips curling back over incisors as he watches you lick over the swollen tip of him and you groan in delight at his taste.

You can see him gasping, lips parted in a small ‘o’ as he breathes, watching you suck him down. 

You wish so much that you could have your aid in right now to hear the noises he’s making. You can see him, head back on the pillow, mouth open and eyes closed in bliss as his cock fills your mouth whilst you suck and lick all around it. 

You feel his fingers snake in your hair until he pulls you upright and kisses you, tongues knotted together again. 

“Fuck me, Frankie.” You sign quickly with abject need. 

Rolling with you, he lines up, guiding himself into you with a gentle shunt forward of his hips and you gasp. 

“Too much?” He mouths at you and you instantly shake your head and grip his ass, pulling him into you. 

“So good,” you mouth back to him and he smiles. 

Your hands frame his hips, feeling the change in skin texture from his scars. Feeling them work as he drives in deep, curls tickling your nose as his forehead rests on yours, breath pelting your face. 

You look down between you to see his cock continually disappearing inside you and he feels so good as he bottoms out inside you, not quite believing this is actually happening. 

Until it happens.

A wave crashing into you, warm and tingling as your body arches into him, your grip becoming tighter and your back sweating as you shake and tense before uncoiling. Letting go as your orgasm takes you and flings you up into the ether.

You feel him press a kiss to your temple, his scruff silken against your cheek. You wrap your legs around his waist and grip harder on his ass as you pant and see stars behind your eyes.

He flattens his palms on the bed and works faster, hitting that spot inside you that makes you cry out louder. 

Frankie slows down to kiss you, grinding his hips so your clit brushes against that soft thatch of hairs at the base of him. He can’t stop kissing you as he gently thrusts, lips gliding over your mouth, your cheeks, your throat. His patchy beard brushing against your ear, your eyelashes… he’s everywhere.

You cling onto him, hands splayed and fingers digging into broad, toned flesh as you build. He smiles as you squirm, blissed brown peepers and a crooked grin flashing at you as your breathing and gasping intensifies.

Cock bringing you to the edge once more and he watches the moment you leap off and fly. He mouths the word “beautiful” again at you before you clutch his face, shaking and kissing him desperately. 

You nod at him as you watch him strain, and the tension in his neck and shoulders tightens. You mouth the word “come” and his mouth opens, baring teeth as his lips curl back. 

Frankie looks incredible when he comes, biting down on those flush lips, veins in his neck bulging. His grip on you becomes tighter, his hips fucking you more frantic as his mouth slacks and his eyes roll back.

You see him utter the word “fuck” and it sends shockwaves to your core. "Inside?"

You nod frantically wanting him to fill you up.

He pulls out slightly and grabs a hold of his cock as it pumps inside you, pulling out so just the tip stays inside, flooding you. Watching in awe as it drips around your hole and uses his fingers to scoop it up and push it back inside as he leans over you for a kiss. 

Flopping down beside you, you ask him if he wants to stay, and he nods with flushed cheeks and pulls you into his broad arms as he crushes you to him. 

“You better not hog the duvet,” you sign to him, and you feel his chest rumble under you as he laughs. 

Splayed, untamed curls stick out in all directions and he’s never looked so good, and you wonder how these events have transpired over the course of the last few hours where you’re tucked up in his arms, still twitching from an intense slew of orgasms. 

"I really like you," he signs with a sleepy smile.

"I really like you too." You sign back.

You lay there, noses nuzzling as Frankie’s fingers stroke across your navel until you finally succumb to sleep. 

As the soft morning light filters through the curtains, you slowly begin to stir from a satiated slumber; your other senses gradually awakening to the world around you.

As you stretch and yawn, you feel a sense of contentment wash over you - a snug warmth that lingers from the heady events of the night before, and emanates from the broad body beside you.

You stir to see Frankie propped up on an elbow and gazing down at you, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips. His fingers are in your hair, stoking gently over the nub of your ear delicately.

You allow yourself to bask in it for a few moments, not shying away or worried about covering it up. Just revelling in the feel of his gentle, unabashed touch.

“Morning,” you sign to him with sleepy eyes.

“I have something for you,” he signs back, reaching behind him and presenting you with an open palm.

Resting on it now is your hearing aid. The casing is still cracked, but all the components and wires are tucked safely back inside. 

"I hope you don't mind," Frankie signs, "I fixed it for you this morning while you were sleeping. I have a few tools kicking about in my truck. It’s not a permanent fix, was fiddly as hell, but it should help you out until you get your new one at least..."

A surge of gratitude floods your heart as you take the hearing aid from him with awe, your fingers tracing the familiar contours of the device with a sense of wonder. 

“You fixed it?” You sign, completely floored. 

“Well, I hope I did.” He signs back, sheepishly. You watch as he scratches under his jaw lazily and smiles at you. “Put it in, let’s see.”

With trembling fingers, you place the hearing aid in your ear, your breath catching in your throat as you wait for the moment of truth.

And then, as if by magic, the world around you slowly fuzzes alive with familiar sounds - the soft rustle of the sheets, the distant chirping of birds through the open window, the gentle rhythm of Frankie’s breathing beside you.

“Hey, can you hear me?” Frankie smiles eagerly at you.

As you hear his voice for the first time, you’re struck by its exquisite tone and timbre, like the gentle strumming of a finely tuned guitar. There's a deep richness to it, a depth that resonates within you, rain on gravel, velvet against skin. 

“Hey,” you reply with a widening smile. “So good to finally hear you.” 

“You too. But I’m just grateful you didn’t hear me snore.” Frankie chuckles, and you giggle with him as he nuzzles into you.

“Thank you,” you say before he kisses you, igniting sparks inside your chest again as he rolls on top of you, body warm and blanketing you.

"It was nothing, really."

“No, it's everything." You smile as he brushes his nose against yours. "Can I make you some breakfast, as a way of thanks?” You ask him as you feel his lips run over your neck, teeth gently nipping at the flesh there and hearing him hum out is exquisite. 

“I’d love that.” His breath is all hot and muffled against your throat. 

You can feel the thickness of him slipping between your soaked folds, grunting deeply as he slides back in, filling you up once more - a delicious, deep sound that reverberates and floods every nerve of your being. 

Your world is alight with colour once more with the way he whines as you scratch inside his roots. The way he snuffles against your skin as he sucks in mouthfuls of it.

The sounds of him cursing through his pleasure, "fuck, baby," and "you feel so fuckin' good around my cock." His filth is exquisite.

You cry out as he fills you full, fingers grappling against his skin and mewling his name in hypnotic chants as he drives deep and hard. You can't get enough and never want to let him go.

“Mmm, I think this is a good way you can thank me right now, hermosa...” 

I really hope you enjoyed reading this story with Frankie, and welcome your comments/thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog if you liked it so others can find it on their dash to read and enjoy too - thank you very much! 🖤

BODIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

[strohller27]

.

[embersofhope-if]

What interactive fiction would you recommend (besides this one)?

oh anon i follow over 150 if blogs let me get you some of my favorites😊 This is very long so all of them are under the cut🫶

some of these you'll probably already have heard of bc of how popular they are, but trust me, they're popular for a reason, lmao

these ones all have demos (if i messed up and some dont uh ignore that)

@infamous-if - "You're going to be a superstar, no matter what it takes." genuinely one of my favorites ifs (seven lawless my beloved please come back home the kids are asking whats taking so long)

@coeluvr - "You play as the only remaining member of the royal family of Vesphire; living in the home of the man who took away everything from you." another ive been obsessed with recently. i will forever love revenge stories (and my pookie helios)

@merrycrisis-if - "As a late 20-something year-old fresh from a recent break-up and struggling to pay rent in New York, life throws up more questions than answers."

@ramonag-if - "When your village is razed to the ground, you're left fleeing with an exiled prince. You can trust no one but each other. Your father's dying wish was to protect the prince, but can you really trust a man who was exiled from his kingdom?"

@nyehilismwriting / Project Hadea - "Set in a distant future, you play the role of an elite operative of Scytha Industries, a private contracting firm. ‘Contracting’, in this case, refers to anything from political assassinations, to private security, to bodyguard services."

@vapolis - "You’re a mercenary, gun for hire, assassin, information extractor, delivery person – call it what you want, because the people that hire you for your services don’t give much of a shit what you call yourself as long as you actually get them what they want."

@godsandvillains-if - "As the only metahuman with the ability to wield the powerful Chaos Magic, your very blood holds the answers to unlocking the secrets behind the control of time and space, but it has the drawback of being almost completely volatile."

@hvllowheart - "LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER is a spy game where you take on the role of an agent under the codename Wraith, who up until two years ago was one of the best agents TERRA has ever made. now the agency returns into your life and pulls you back into the field as agents go missing by the dozens."

@eyesofshan-if - "Years ago, you were uprooted from the only home you had ever known and captured to be sold as a slave. Now, war is at your doorstep once more while you are left in a delicate position — as a commander of the country that invaded your homeland. While investigating a case of illegal human trafficking, you come across a plot that threatens to rip this tentative peace apart."

@apt502-if - "Moving from your small home to New York City was supposed to be a dream. You were supposed to start your new life with your long-distance partner and dive headfirst into full-on adulthood. Everything was supposed to be perfect. How can you not love being in your mid-twenties in the Big Apple?That is until your put-together, white collar partner dumps you the same day you arrive. Fun."

@acourtofserpents - "As the only human in the Kingdom of Faerie, you're no stranger to shining eyes that hold looks filled with hatred, lips painted in the color of forest fruits whispering your name, heads with pointed ears turning at your every step. Though you long for their approval, for a place amongst the wicked immortals, they remind you with every breath you take that as you came from dirt, to dirt you will return."

@softlyopulent-if - "All of King Adder’s children are a mystery to the common folk, but you—you are nothing but a ghost. A ghost, that spends eighteen years locked away in the deepest part of the palace, so that no eyes may lay upon you.And those that do—they do not treat you kindly.And when you are finally of age, at last, you are betrothed to the child of the King of a far away kingdom, to secure an alliance that your father has been seeking for years.And you are swept away to a place even more foreign than your own land, to be wed to a stranger that looks at you with contempt. To live in a kingdom of citizens that despise you. And perhaps, just perhaps, fight a war."

@heromaker-if - "Stories of heroes, legends and chosen ones are commonplace. But you'd never thought it was your child who would have to save the world from the Demon Lord's clutches."

@theabyssal - "In The Abyssal, you assume the control of a powerful deity that was betrayed by their fellow gods. Imprisoned against your will for all eternity, you had a long time to plan your revenge."

@milaswriting - "By birth, and association, you are one of the most famous people in the big city of Lehsa. Your father's the mayor, and you're from a bright, vibrant, bustling city... and yet, until recently, you didn't realise all the secrets yourself and the city held."

@zico-if - "You were supposed to be a sacrifice in order to bring an eldritch god to your realm, a sacrifice that was never supposed to live. Instead of dying and summoning the god intended, you find yourself face to face with an ancient being that was chained and locked away for the horrors they once committed."

@collegetennisoriginstory - "Experience the ups-and-downs of life as a freshman on the Cargill University varsity tennis team amongst a colorful cast of characters."

@disenchantedif - "You used to be a beacon of hope. Now they only know you as the failure, the Unchosen. Will you rise above them? Will you become better or far worse than they could ever imagine?"

@bouncyballcitadel - "Play as a first-year surgery intern at Citadel Health. Will you become the star intern and curry the favor of the chief? Or will you uncover Citadel Health’s secrets and break a story or two? This will be the best and worst year of your life. Don’t forget to save lives and break some hearts along the way."

@leoneliterary - "You play as a thief pressed into the employ of a mysterious nobleman. With the your life, the fate of your guild, and your honor on the line, you'll have to navigate the perils of the royal court and combat a more mystical threat. The story is set in Cusmo, the naturally fortified, desert capital of Hashind, and will showcase the much praised Upper Cusmo, the crime ridden Lower Cusmo, and much more."

@doriana-gray-games - "Play as your version of Sherlock Holmes in this romance detective game!"

@fallenlightsif - "You are the half-sibling of High General Ezrah Rhys and have lived the past twelve years of your life in Kesdon, the capital of Ebia. You've spent most of your time training and honing your skills for the future that awaits you. A future that is entirely your own."

@shai-manahan - "They call you Ripper. It’s a horrendous name to give to a detective like you, and definitely not one you chose for yourself, but you suppose it’s to be expected given your reputation for putting powerful people behind bars. Businesses feared you. The other cops hated you. Local gangs despised your entire existence. Yet, despite all of that, you remained untouched. Until that day, when all the lies and the deception and the foolish mistakes turned your life upside down."

@larkingame - "someone is after you. for over a decade and a half now, you’ve traveled up, down and across the country--running schemes and hunting fiends with your mentor, con-man-by-day, vampire-hunter-by-night, Wyatt Abrams--the prolific vampire slayer and the living descendant of Gregory Abrams, founder and prophet of the Abrams Family, the nomadic vampire-hunting cult that raised you--and was wiped out years ago. carrying the abrams name means also means carrying on it's enemies--but that isn't to say you haven't forged a couple of your own along the way. now, it seems someone is trying to make good on old threats and promises. they've placed a bounty on your head. so you and wyatt do what you do best: you run away. to some little town, out nevada ways, where the title of town preacher is unexpectedly thrust upon you--bringing back years of trauma you thought long tucked away."

@evertidings - "you are a bounty hunter. responsible for taking in rogue supernaturals, you work for IAOS—the international agency of supernaturals—where, alongside your best friend and partner, you two have quickly become the best hunting duo of the branch. after a particularly tricky hunt, you brief your boss, Caine Atheron, and come back to work the next day to find that he has mysteriously disappeared overnight, the company is now in the hands of his best friend, Sebastian Mai. and though no one else seems to question it, something tells you that there's more to the story."

@rotten-games - Regrets Of The Traitor: "You are the Ruler of Hadaria after killing the previous Queens and betraying all who once trusted you. Sat upon the throne with all the power available to you, one would be forgiven for believing you finished with your quest. With a strange figure in your dreams speaking vague prophecies of magical artifacts, a mysterious cult moving into the city, and a group intent on unseating you from your place, perhaps you’re way in over your head for a farmer’s kid. City of Immortals: "You follow a pair of siblings worlds apart as they get accustomed to their new realities in two very different worlds. One trapped in an unnatural desert wasteland where every resource has a scarcity, not knowing if they’ll be the only one left when everything turns to dust, the other working as a private investigator in a sprawling underground metropolis of the undying. Each not knowing the other is alive, will they unravel the mysteries that somehow connect their two new homes?"

@shepherds-of-haven - "Shepherds of Haven is a dark fantasy interactive fiction game. In it, you play as a Mage living in a world where magic is outlawed and your people—those possessing supernatural powers—are oppressed and reviled. The world is ruled by humans who believe in science, technology, and industry: at best, you and your kind are nothing more than a fairytale, and at worst you are the state’s greatest threat."

@someoneverypretty-world - "As a child, growing up in the slums of Hvinir without any guardians, you believed you would not live to see 30. Until Haven, a thief guild, took you in and taught you how to survive. Facing hardships, the guild leader tasks you to sneak into the castle with the mission to take."

@northern-passage - "The Northern Passage is an 18+ horror fantasy CYOA, where you play as a hunter sent up north to investigate a series of missing people along the border of your home country and in the port cities of the Blackwater. Working with your handler, Lea, you will travel north and discover that things are far worse than you ever could have imagined, and that there is something powerful lurking out in the deep, dark sea…"

@thedecoy-if - "♔ The Decoy is a dark fantasy that follows you, a 21st century normal human, kidnapped to an alternate magical universe to play the part of the missing heir to a powerful throne...who also happens to be your doppelgänger. ♔"

@ripperplague - "You are a doctor, a prodigy in hiding. Deep in the underbelly of Valeris, you hide among the shadows. You work hard to wring the blood stains off your palms, your face...your soul. Redemption and revenge are parallel goals, the flames of rage and disgust mingling. How could anyone ever love you?"

These ones dont have a demo yet, but im still absolutely obsessed

@pavedinashes-if - "You're only 20 when suddenly your life goes bam! Throwing you into a whole new city, a different country even. Wasn't part of the plan, but you know how life loves to mess with plans. People happened, stuff happened, and suddenly you're on the move. The new chapter ahead? Buckle up, 'cause it's not gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. And guess what? Your step-mom? Yeah, she's right there in the same city. She's always had this knack for trying to steer your ship, like every decision's a GPS checkpoint. But hey, there's this one thing that's never let you down—your skateboard. It's like the buddy that's been with you through thick and thin, the one that never bails. Among all this craziness it's like your anchor. So, the big question is—can you break out of the loop you got in? Find your place in the world and restart or lose yourself in temptation? Time to find out."

@riptide-if - "Your dad has always said you swim as if your were born to be in the water; the rest of your family has always said that he is the whole reason you turned out like that. So, it's not really a surprise when you had used all the money you got for your 7th birthday to buy a surfboard. And even less of a surprise when you started joining small surf competitions by the time you were 10, later followed by bigger competitions. It seems you are the only one surprised when it turns out you're able to compete in the World Surfer's League's Ultimate Tournament Tour*. Thrown into a mix of fellow surfing prodigies, rookies, and pros, do you really have what it takes to win?"

@weepinwriter - "You are inmate No. 1441, incarcerated in Tartarus, the most notorious prison on the continent. You find yourself imprisoned for a crime that you do not remember committing, leaving you in a state of uncertainty about your own identity and purpose. The first memory you have is awakening to the sensation of a gun being shoved into your mouth."

@whatawaitsus - "Despite being one of the most expensive schools in the nation, nothing particularly interesting has happened at the school in the nine years you've been here— aside from the occasional accidental possession caused by a ghost or the common room getting flooded after a nixie gets too frustrated over their homework. That is until students start to go missing."

@evermount - "Blue-suited guards stand in every corner, but they're no threat—you're under threat. And this is how you keep safe. It's necessary; the council said so themselves. Under no circumstances shall Evermount be left, ever. So, no one has, and no one intends to. Why would you? It's peaceful—you're at peace. You have your spouse, and you have your house; everyone's happy. This is all you've ever known."

@forsakensword-if - "When the Deathless, an Ancient Evil that hasn’t been seen in over two million years, returns to Earth, it threatens the extremely precarious peace that has settled between the warring factions of Heaven and Hell. God, in an effort to protect Humanity from the consequences of a war between the Angels and Demons, sends Heaven’s best warriors to banish the Deathless once more. When that ultimately fails, it is declared that God’s Sworn Sword and Heaven’s Chief Angel will be charged with finding a way to destroy the Deathless once and for all. That Angel is you. The Archangel Michael."

@velena-if - "You wake up in a dark, cold place with no memories of yourself, save for one: the memory of your death. It becomes clear soon enough that you are in the Nav, the domain of the goddess of death, Morana, and the sanctuary of all the evil spirits and monsters. For you, Nav will be the place where your life changes forever."

@countdown-if - "Three months ago, life took a sharp turn. Your mother found herself entangled in a situation so bad, she couldn't dig her way out of it, like usual. This time, the hole was way too deep. She needed help, and the only people capable of aiding her were the same ones she had vowed never to allow back into her life, let alone introduce to you and your younger sibling. Who were they? Your grandparents—a powerful and well-established duo. In short, they did manage to help your mother back on her feet, but not without strings attached—never without strings. Now, you're facing a senior year in a private school, fully funded by none other than grandma and grandpa, dearest. The only task at hand: do what your mother couldn't—graduate."

@dropout-if - "This is your first summer home since you began studying in Stanford. That is what everyone thinks. This is your first summer home since you dropped out of college, thus becoming the biggest disappointment in your neighborhood. That is what only you know. "

@stonewall-if - "Stonewall Military Academy: the most brutal, merciless, and unforgiving boarding school in the country. Most recruits either desert or die by the end of their first year. It is where the fiercest and deadliest killers are trained and molded to be the military's steel fist. And it is not for the faint of heart."

@viperdove-if - "You are the Dove, the heir to one of the most powerful crime families in your country. The grip your family--your father--has on their side of the land is tight, and now that you've reached adulthood it's time for you to be fully absorbed into the machinations of gang warfare. That means opium, mercenaries, assassinations. In this ancient world, blood moves people just as much as money does."

@fallen-if - "You are an individual that has been known by many aliases over the years. Child of the dawn, the original sinner, star of the morning. But no matter the name, your identity remains the same. You are the one that defied the heavens, the one that cast aside the shackles of tradition and broke free from the constraints of the divine. You are Lucifer Morningstar - The Fallen Angel. "

@maboroshi-if - "Maboroshi is an Interactive Fiction Game based in the world of Naruto, however, all events within the story span during the end of the First Shinobi War and the beginning of the Second Shinobi War."

@greatprotector-if - "Forced out of your family's farm against your will, you are now an ocean away from home, and you have somehow been chosen to be the main protector of the heir to some kingdom you’ve hardly even heard of. The spot's only open because the former protector died of old age, so that's probably a good indicator that it won't be as strenuous as it sounds. But despite that, you pour yourself into your work. You can't help it. You feel safer decked out in armour, and you like having something you're trusted to look after. Protect some royalty, cover all your blind spots, and try not to worry about all you've left behind."

@retribution-if - "Retribution, He Cries is a revenge story set in the Dark Ages of the fictional world of [REDACTED] and other realms."

@thescarsilivewith-if - "You were a kind monarch once. After your mother’s brutal reign, you thought your people needed respite. Evidently, they didn’t think the same since their bloodthirst only increased. Three years after your coronation, your mother’s favourite consort dethroned you with the army and the clergy’s support. As you fled from the palace together with your spouse, from an arranged marriage celebrated only three months earlier, you were found by slavers. You managed to save your spouse but not yourself. Four years later, your spouse finds you, though you’re not the same person they knew. You are not changed in spirit alone, however, for your magic grew in your captivity and now you’re unbound. When the crown chose you as its owner, you wanted peace for your kingdom. Now the only thing you crave is revenge."

[magics-neptunes-things]

Good 4 U

Hello there!

I hope you’re all great. This story is just out of my imagination, but enjoy anyway, I guess ♥ Also Caitlin and Lia are always a thing in this word.

TW: Reader! Wälti, no other I think.

PART 2 | PART 3

______________________________________________________________

Unlike your older sister Lia, you are not wise and quiet. You have trouble concentrating and you aren't necessarily interested in the idea of landing somewhere. You and Lia don’t have the same character, but that never stopped you from loving each other a lot. You’d do anything for your older sister who’s only 10 months older than you. And you know she would do anything in return for you. You and her were almost like twins and even if you wasn't planned, you parents always loved you the way they love Lia.

You travel all the time, leaving one place when you're getting tired to visit another corner of the world. You are sociable and have no trouble making contacts with anyone, to find a job or to make new friends. You are lucky to be able to remember the different languages in the countries you visit. You speak German from birth, you are bilingual in English and you talk other new languages like spanish or italian.

For now, you are in London with your sister for a week. The last time you stayed in London with Lia was last year when her life was a little more complicated than now. This time, you decided to come to see her just because you missed her and wanted to be with her for her birthday. You contacted Leah to help you surprise her, and you congratulate yourself for filming Lia's reaction when you walked into her living room following Leah.

When Lia told you about a karaoke night with her friends, most of them from Arsenal, you didn't hesitate a single second before accepting. You already know Caitlin obviously and Leah, who you met when she came in Switzerland last year. You met some of the girls last time you came in London, but you don't know all of them. This is a good occasion to met them.

Despite the time set at 9pm, not everyone arrived on time but this didn't prevent the people already present from starting to have fun. You’ve already shared a song with Steph and another with Leah. And you’re choosing the song you’re going to sing with Lia when Katie finally makes her appearance in the establishment.

When the music started, Katie was greeting everyone and sat at one of the tables surrounded by a bench, reserved for the night.

She's sitting with Caitlin, Leah, Kyra and Alessia when her gaze mechanically refers to you when you start singing. And her gesture stops immediately when she looks at you, her arm halfway between her mouth and the table as she was getting ready to drink.

"You alright mate?" laughs Kyra

"Who’s the girl with Wally?" Katie asks, blinking.

"Her little sister. Why?" asks Leah, bowing her eyebrow.

But Katie doesn’t answer, completely hypnotized by you. She just can’t take her eyes off you, your face, your body and anything else that can be part of you.

"It's Wally’s sister?" ended up repeating Katie before glancing at Caitlin. "Damn, you’re shagging the wrong Wälti, Caitlin."

"You’re disgusting" Caitlin says, rolling her eyes.

Leah laughs softly next to Katie and the Irish girl seems to reminding something. She turns herself a little to look at Leah before talking.

"Wait, this is the sister you met last year?"

"Yes?" answer a frowning Leah.

"And you didn't try anything with her?"

Katie’s tone let perfectly passes the disbelief she feels at this idea. But Leah rolls her eyes again.

"She’s Lia’s little sister. She would have killed me. And she’ll kill you too if you try anything with her"

Katie responds with a throat sound before finally bringing her drink to her lips. And from then on, she won’t leave you until your song is finished. Katie recognized Olivia Rodrigo’s song "Good 4 u" and she briefly wonders if it means anything to you and Lia.

When the song ends, Lia approaches the table where Katie is installed while you take the opportunity to go to the toilet. If Caitlin greets your sister with a big smile, making her sit on her lap, Leah can’t help but drop the information to Lia.

"Your sister caught Katie’s eyes" Leah announces with a big smile.

This causes a growl from Katie who hoped to try a discreet approach with you and a frown from Lia, who quickly takes off from Caitlin to lean towards Katie.

"Stay away from her Katie, I’m not kidding"

Katie raises both hands as a sign of abandonment, not without rolling her eyes.

"Looks like I’m the devil in person" Katie growls before finishing her drink.

"She was hurt once and since then has been traveling around the world. I want to see her again before Christmas 2025."

"Okay, okay, I get it" sighs gently, Katie. "I’ll get myself a drink."

After asking if anyone wanted something, Katie gets up to order herself a drink, deciding to go to the other side to have less to wait. And Lia will not be able to tell her anything, because it's finally you who approaches her first. You come to order yourself a drink too and you have no trouble recognizing the teammate of your big sister, that you watch play as soon as you can.

"You're Katie, right? I'm Y/N, Lia's sister" you smile before reaching out to greet her.

"Yes, that's me. Nice to meet ya" Katie grins, taking your hand in hers, squeezing it maybe a little to long.

Your eyes cross and you find yourself becoming aware of the beauty of the young woman who stands before you. You first notice her blue eyes and then her smile that you quickly find mesmerizing.

You are interrupted in your moment by the server who finally takes your orders. And, while Katie passes her command, you discreetly let your gaze slide on her forms. How did you not realize before how breathtaking she was?

"Lia told me you travel a lot" Katie says, turning to you to resume your conversation.

"Oh, yes… I just came back from New Zealand" you explain with a smile, before starting on an explanation of your last trip.

The minutes pass quickly as you chat with her and then you find yourself interested in her and her life. There’s something about Katie that hypnotizes you and you could honestly spend hours listening to her and laughing at what she’s telling you. You like her humor, the sound of her voice and it’s a little destabilizing for you to find yourself so impacted by someone so quickly.

"Do you want to get some fresh air?" Katie says after realizing you’ve been talking for a while.

You accept with pleasure and you follow her on the outdoor terrace of the establishment, Katie seems to know this place very well. Which is probably not surprising since Lia told you they come often.

"Here" simply makes Katie by dropping her jacket on your bare arms after seeing you shiver.

"Thank you" you answer with a sincere smile.

You move a little away from the entrance to not be in the way and you lean against a wall looking up to look at the stars. However, you gently frown when you see that they are not visible. You forgot they’re hard to see from central London.

"When are you leaving again?" asks Katie while looking at you.

You leave the sky with your eyes to carry them over her before gently shrugging your shoulders with a smile.

"I haven’t decided yet. Why?"

"I was wondering if you would give me your phone number so we could meet again, before you leave."

You bite your lip briefly while observing her. You are not sure if it's a good idea, you will probably leave soon and you know that it would probably not lead to much. But you’d be lying if you said the Irish girl didn’t tease your curiosity.

"Okay" you end up answering before you pick up her phone and put your number on it.

A big smile is born on Katie’s face and you don’t know her enough yet to realize that it’s a frank smile and not the sufficient smile she likes to have to provoke her opponents. Her phone in her pocket, Katie settles next to you, leaning against the wall like you.

"Do you like to look at the stars?" asked Katie.

"It’s probably one of the things I prefer to do" you admit without hesitation. "But it’s difficult from here"

"I know a place where they can be seen. You want to go see?"

********

"I just ran into Katie running away with a pretty blonde" laughs Victoria who just arrived while sitting at Lia’s table.

"I’m going to kill her" the Swiss woman announces, noting that you have also disappeared.

Kyra’s sigh sound out at the same time as Leah’s facepalm. Caitlin masks her amused smile behind Lia’s head, but she is nevertheless surprised by Alessia who smiles back at her.

********

You suspect a little the annoyance that Lia must feel and you feel in spite of yourself a slight guilt at the idea of not enjoying her birthday party with her. But you take a look at Katie after you get out of her car and you quickly realize that she’s genuinely happy to show you this place.

"What’s your favorite constellation?" Katie asks you when you’re both sitting in the grass.

"Aquila" you answer by pointing to the place in the sky where it is. "And you?"

"I didn’t have one until now, but it could become my favorite" Katie replies with a smirk.

You laugh slowly and you turn your head in her direction, to see that Katie rolled to the side and that she’s looking at you. You feel yourself blushed and you’re pretty glad it’s dark and Katie can’t see it. But you don’t let her out of your sight and you decide to play her game.

"What is your astrological sign?" you ask.

"Virgo"

"Well maybe my favorite constellation is going to be Virgo then"

Katie laughs softlyand, taking a sudden aspiration, you gently take her hand in yours. Katie lets you and you find that her skin is pleasantly warm and soft against yours. You shift your attention to the sky above you, feeling Katie’s gaze stay on you. But it doesn’t bother you, it’s not the kind of heavy look that makes you uncomfortable. You feel good and safe with her, despite what Lia seems to think.

It’s almost two o'clock in the morning when Katie takes you home to your sister, whose keys you have so you can get in and out whenever you want.

"I hope I’m not interrupting a private celebration" you grin maliciously at Katie, who insisted on accompanying you to the front door.

"If there is going to be a celebration tonight it will probably be to celebrate my death" laughs Katie before explaining, when you turn an interrogative look in her direction "I was not supposed to approach you tonight. Lia has warned me"

"Why did you do it then?" you ask curiously while searching through your purse while looking at it.

"Technically, it was you who approached me" Katie replies with a satisfied smile. "But I’m very happy about it."

You smile back at her and you probably look at each other for a few seconds too long, before you come out of your trance and regain your self-confidence.

"I’ll defend your cause, if you want" you joke softly.

"See me again and it will have been well worth it."

You smile again and bite your lip briefly. You really want to kiss her, but maybe it’s too early for that. You step forward and put a kiss on her cheek instead before backing away again and opening the door.

"Go home safely"

"I will" answers Katie with a smile. "Good night"

"Sweet dreams"

The house is empty when you enter and you assume that either Lia is not back yet, or she went to Caitlin’s. You go undress and remove your makeup and it's when you are writing to your sister to inform her that you came home when you receive a message from an unknown number.

From Unknow I came home safely. Sleep tight beautiful x

From You Sleep well too. We talk soon x

********

Lia looked at you with skepticism when you told her that nothing happened with Katie, unless looking at the stars and learning to know her. Since her breakup, Katie had a lot of fling and Lia obviously didn't want you to fall for the Irish girl before being ignored by her.

Katie and you wrote to each others a lot during the past days and you find yourself smiling every time she texted you. When she asked you on a date, you accepted with a second thought.

Katie take you to an Irish restaurant, she looked almost outraged to learn that you have never been to Ireland during your many travels. You had a great evening and when she brought you back you vaguely hoped for a kiss but Katie just gently kissed your cheek before smiling with affection. She then waited until you go inside to leave. Then you started texting each other almost all the day, every day.

From Katie ✨ u going to the game today?

From You I am :) why?

From Katie ✨ Would you let me take you for a brunch before ?

From You I would love to

From Katie ✨ Great. I'm taking you at 10 xx

You almost turned the cupboard in which you installed your clothes in your sister’s guest room to find a proper outfit. You ended up opting for a simple outfit, comfortable but nevertheless different from what you can wear every day. Once ready, you go to the kitchen, in which you find only Catlin in the company of her cup of coffee and a toast with…

"Vegemite?" you ask with a smirk

"Lia always has a jar for me in her cupboards" replies the Australian with amusement.

"How romantic" you laugh softly

You take a glass of water, realizing rather quickly that Caitlin observes you over the cup of coffee that she holds with two hands. Since she and Lia got together, the Australian has taken on the role of your big sister too. You obviously can’t compare the connection you have with her with the one you have with Lia, but you appreciate her enormously.

"Are you going out?"

"Yes" you just answer

"With Katie?"

You don't have time to respond with the positive or negative that Lia’s voice is heard behind you. Obviously she must appear when the name of the Irish is pronounced.

"What, Katie?" Lia asks, bowing her eyebrow.

"I'm going to a brunch with her" you explain softly with a sigh. "Look, don’t make that face, I know you don’t want anything but to protect me, but if it makes you happy… Nothing ever happened between us, if it turns out she’s not even interested in anything but friendship with me"

You gently shrug your shoulders and carefully avoid Lia’s gaze. You don’t necessarily want your older sister to see how depressed you are about this idea. But it's Caitlin who speaks again, although she's peacefully returned to reading her diary.

"Or she takes the time to do things right with you because you mean something to her" she points out without looking at you.

You frown thoughtfully at her, but Caitlin doesn’t add anything. Lia gets closer to you though, gently laying her hand on yours.

"What would make me happy is that you are too. I just want you to be happy and make sure no one can hurt you any more."

"I’ll be fine, Lia, I promise" you assure her with a little smile. "I learned from my mistakes"

Lia pout a little and when your phone vibrates in your pocket when Katie writes to you that she has arrived and that she waits for you, you take your big sister in your arms.

"I love you" you say before you kiss her cheek.

"I love you too. See you at the game?"

With a smile you nod before leaving the house. Your smile widens when you see Katie waiting for you, leaning against the front of her car.

"You look stunning" Katie smiles looking at your outfit.

"You’re not bad yourself"

Katie is dressed in her training kit, ready for the game and you find it strangely sexy. Unlike other times you have seen her, you don't hesitate to greet her with a hug and then let her take you by the hand to train you to the passenger door of the car.

The establishment that Katie has chosen is between Lia’s house and the stadium, the Irish girl explaining to you that it's a place that she loves and that has the advantage of not being too well known by the general public. It seems to have its habits and even if you don't necessarily appreciate the big smile with which the waitress welcomes Katie, you are quickly satisfied by the hand that she puts in your back to guide you to her usual table.

As always, the discussion is pleasant. You have to admit you did some research on Katie, but you feel like the Katie that people can see on the football field is different from the one you see every day. The Katie you know is sweet, attentive, considerate and charming. You have the impression that she really listens to you and that she seems particularly interested in what you tell her, no matter what it is.

And the butterflies that you have in the hollow of your belly when her fingers touch your hand while taking the salt are rather very pleasant. However, you regret not knowing if things are really shared or if Katie is only interested in friendship with you.

"Can I ask you a question?" asks Katie, her blue eyes watching you attentively over her cup of tea.

"Of course" you answer with a little smile.

"When she asked me not to come near you, Lia mentioned a romantic relationship that ended badly. I’m not asking you to tell me everything, but if you have any residual trauma or like that…"

Of course Lia mentioned your old relationship with Katie. On the other hand, you can’t blame her, after learning about the various deceptions of your ex-girlfriend, it was so painful that you never set foot in Switzerland again and you never saw your family again for a year. It apparently left your sister with trauma as well.

"As long as you don’t lie to me or hide things from me, it should be okay" you mumble and shrug.

Katie looks funny and you briefly get lost in your thoughts until the Irish woman gently takes your hand in hers. When you look up at her, she smiles softly at you, her eyes immensely sweet.

"No matter what happens, I will never. I promise"

You smile softly at her, losing yourself in her eyes. Katie changes the subject and when it’s time to leave for the stadium, you have the impression that the time has passed much too quickly.

"Do you mind if someone sees you get out of my car? There are often fans waiting for us in the parking lot, they cannot access it but they wait behind the gates. I can drop you off if you want" Katie asks when you’re about to arrive.

"I don’t care" you assure her by tapping on her arm.

You didn’t expect her to grab your hand with hers to interlace your fingers, but this gesture is rather pleasant.

Katie was right, you barely got out of the car when you heard some people calling her name. The young woman having advised you not to pay attention to it, you follow her inside the corridors in the colors of Arsenal without turning once your glance towards the fans.

"Shall I leave you there?" asks Katie once right outside the door that’s supposed to take you to the VIP corner, where Lia booked you a seat.

You nod with a slight smile. You know the way now.

"Thanks for the invitation. I had a great time"

"So do I" Katie says, smiling as well. "You still don’t know when you’re leaving, right?"

"Maybe soon. I don’t know yet"

You gently shrug your shoulders, but you don’t miss the disappointment that briefly passes over Katie’s face after her smile drop.

"Oh… okay. Well, I’ll see you soon, I guess?"

"Yeah" you smile softly.

Katie gives you a little smile, but it’s only when she turns her heels in the direction of the changing rooms that you walk forward two steps and you take the floor again.

"Katie?"

"Yes?"

The Irish girl turns and looks at you with surprise. She apparently did not expect you to hold her back.

"You want to know what it depends on?"

"Yes" she says again, looking at you carefully.

You made other steps to catch up to her and to be at her height but you mechanically bite your lip, a little anxious about your courage and its repercussions. But now is not the time to back down. Katie seems to have quickly noticed your nervousness since she is also moving in your direction of a step, offering you a reassuring smile.

"You"

"Me?"

"Yes, I… I like you, I mean not necessarily only physically. And I really like the moments we spend together, but I don’t know if it’s mutual or if I’m making ideas. And I’m a little afraid that after talking to you about it now it changes or complicates things, but-"

Katie ends up interrupting you, putting her finger on your lips to silence you. You don’t know if it’s a good thing or not and you freeze instantly.

"I like you too, I thought it was obvious. I’m sorry if I let you think otherwise. My love life may not have been the most stable in a few months, but with you it’s different."

You don’t have time to answer anything that Leah Williamson appears around the corner to call Katie. Training will begin soon.

"I have to go. I’ll see you later?"

You nod with a smile. Katie looks at you for a few more seconds smiling before heading to where Leah disappeared a few seconds ago.

"Katie?" You call her again though. "You forgot something"

Gently frowning, Katie turns in your direction, no doubt to see you so close to her, always smiling. She has no time to question you, since you come forward until you can put your lips on hers. It’s just a light kiss, but the sensations are amazing.

When you open your eyes again, Katie’s are dipping into yours and you have to take it on yourself so you don’t pass out. If you listened to yourself, you would do it again, but you don’t want to cross the line. That said, given her smile, she doesn’t seem to be against that kiss.

"Now you can go" you smile maliciously.

But Katie shakes her head with her big smile still displayed on her face. Taking advantage of your proximity, Katie gently puts her hand on your neck before drawing your face once again against hers. This kiss is longer than the first and your hands naturally find place on Katie’s body.

When Katie gently caresses your lower lip with her tongue, asking for access to yours, you do not hesitate a single second before leaving it to her. Obviously, you forget a little where you are and that everyone could surprise you. It is finally a door noise far away from you that brings you back to reality, a few minutes later.

"I really have to go" whispers Katie, her lips caressing yours when she speaks.

And it makes you half lose your mind. So you can’t resist the urge to kiss her again and it takes all your strength to tear you away from her. And let her go.

"Come on, go make the rest of the world enjoy your talent" you smile softly

Katie laughs but steals one last kiss before leaving. It’s in a second state that you join your seat, but when Katie appears on the field alongside the other players, you can’t help but smile again. Katie quickly spots you in the stands and sends you a wink to which you respond with a smile.

In the end, it’s not as safe as this that you’ll leave London.

[lw6-woso]

Hair cuts (Leah Williamson X reader)

(not my gif)

summary- you cannot keep up with Leah's impulsive decisions.

when Leah ruptured her ACL is was incredibly hard, especially the first couple of weeks. her emotions where all over the place and she was not in a good mind set. you had tried to help as much as possible with giving her the space she needed and the shoulder to cry on as you knew what she was going through as you ruptured yours at the start of your carrier.

however, as time slowly went on after surgery and once she could walk without crutches, there was a massive improvement with leash health and wellbeing, and everyone could see it.

she also became a very busy women, she had decided that because she could not pay football, she was going to do lots of advocating for the sport that she has been forever in love with.

and you were happy that she was going amazing charity work for the sport, however there was times that you were worried about her being a little too busy and not taking the proper time to relax and remember that she is still in recovery for a big injury.

you had shared your thoughts with her, Beth, and the physios at Arsenal, wanting to know if you were being too dramatic or I your feelings were valid. Leah said she was fine, Beth understood why you felt that way and that she would keep an eye on her during rehab, and the physios also had the same idea but had also mentioned that she was doing amazing in rehab. after all the conversations you realised that your feelings where valid but to not get in the way of Leah too much and to let her do her. and instead keep an eye on her schedule. and when you walked through your shared house door, it was then you realised you had no idea how much Leah was doing. with the new season starting and the world cup ending you were also very busy and did not see Leah as much as you would like, with media and fittings and well just life, it was very hectic.

you had just finished training with the girls and was on your way back home, you knew Leah was home when you saw her car parked in the driveway of your home. you grabbed all your things and opened the unlocked door. as you walked in you could hear the shower on upstairs and country music playing quietly. you took this time to clean up your bag and put a load of washing up and do things that you did not have time to do that morning. it did not take long for Leah to move to where you were planted on the kitchen table doing some work.

she sat next to you, and you looked up and that is when you saw it, Leah had cut her hair, she had bangs.

"Leah what the hell" I said in complete shock.

"Do you not like it, it’s for children in need and in the photo, I had bangs so thought why not go for it" she said with a smile on her face. "I’m just a bit shocked that’s all you never really change your hair, and this is a big change" you said.

"Yeah, I know but it looks better with the younger photo of me" she said.

"Okay that’s fine but don’t come complaining to me when you can't slice your hair up" you said, and she rolled her eye.

you knew she would, and she most certainly did the next morning when the both of you had to go into training.

"BABY" you heard a shout from your shared bedroom.

"What did I say last night" I shouted back, and you could hear a grumble from her but no reply.

you smirked to yourself.

[csuitebitches]

On Being Well Spoken

I recently received a request about posting something regarding being well spoken.

Something you need to realise is that you’re not going to become well-spoken overnight. You need to practice on people. You need to SPEAK.

I used to stutter so badly that I could barely speak a whole sentence.

Flash forward a few years. I pitched my start up in front of a crowd, I joined Model United Nations in high school and college, I’ve been invited to speak on my entrepreneurial experience by some top universities in my country. It’s taken a lot to get here. And I’m still not where I want to be.

1. Apps to track progress and help you get better at public speaking

An app that you can use: “Speeko.”

I used to use this, it is beginner friendly and you can improve your public speaking skills as well.

2. Use topic generators

Go online and look up a topic generator. Generate a random topic, video yourself speaking on that topic. Don’t give yourself time to prepare anything - read the topic and start speaking. Set a time limit - you’ll realise that speaking for even 2 minutes can be quite difficult at times.

Not only does this make you realise that you may have limited language skills, but it will also make you realise exactly where you’re falling behind. Note down things in a journal.

- is grammar the issue?

- Lack of vocabulary?

- Too many filler sounds?

- Knowledge gap?

This is also a great idea if you’re at an intermediate level of learning a language/ polishing a language. Do this everyday and maintain a diary on your improvement.

3. Reading out loud

Select a news article or any article. Read out loud, slowly and steadily. Pronounce every syllable calmly.

A two minute read should take 5 minutes to read out loud. That’s how slow you should go. Not more than 4-5 words per breath.

Your tongue needs to get used to different syllables and sounds. Practice will help.

4. Talk in real life

Talk to anyone and everyone whenever you can.

Ask your barista how their day is going.

Ask your work or university security if they’ve had a good day and if they ate today.

Chat with your taxi driver about their life. I always start with asking them if they are from the city we’re travelling in. Even if you’re from that city, act like a tourist. Where are the best eateries? The conversation eventually goes to personal questions. How many children do they have, and what do they do? What do they like about the city?

You’ll learn the art of small talk only through practice. No book or guide can actually prepare you. You have to practice, practice and practice.

5. Diaphragm breathing

Diaphragm breathing is very important. Look up some YouTube videos for reference. You essentially breathe from your tummy (stomach goes in and out; not chest going up and down). This is a great calming exercise too.

6. Stuttering tongue/ jaw exercise videos

These are great because they really do prep your jaw and tongue well. The videos could include tongue stretches, placing your tongue on your palette correctly, etc. Search on YouTube.

7. Body posture

You really need to work on your posture too. Sit up straight. Back, STRAIGHT. Chin up, shoulders relaxed. Something as simple as posture can change your level of confidence.

8. Pranayama

A yoga exercise for breathing. You can find a guided video on YouTube for sure.

9. Vocabulary

Invest your time in expanding your vocabulary. There’s enough apps and games that can help you with that, if you aren’t fond of reading. A sign of being well spoken is having great vocabulary.

Start by looking up the synonyms of everyday words.

“I’m upset”

- how many different words can you find for upset?

“I had a crazy day today”

- one can easily use “hectic”, “chaotic” “lively” instead

10. Idioms

Idioms, phrases, sayings - look up common idioms in your language of choice. Aim to use at least 3 new idioms on 3 separate occasions in a week while you speak. You need to understand when and where you can use the idioms in your vocabulary.

11. Knowing when to switch

You can’t talk like a 50 year old heiress to a 10 year old child; you need to get down to their level.

If someone is clearly not a native speaker and is struggling to put words together, don’t use difficult words around them.

If you’re meeting with someone high profile, refrain from using slang.

The best speakers know when to switch their level of language.

You can’t use one singular type of speaking with everyone. You need to understand that there is a time and place for everything - and you’ll be able to switch like a pro only when you actually speak and start gaining experience.

[sorchathered]

Heartbreaks & Happy Birthdays

Happy sleepover Saturday y’all, I thought I’d kick it off with a miracle, yes you are seeing this right I wrote a fic for Bradley! @roosterforme I know you are somewhere victory dancing 😂. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Pairing- Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x reader

Warnings- drinking, allusions to smut, language, angst.

Summary- you throw Bradley a birthday party and it ends in disaster, can you move past it or is it time to let him go?

It had started out as such a good weekend, for the life of him he couldn’t figure out when it went wrong.

Bradley had turned 37 on Thursday and you’d agreed to spend the weekend with him, getting off of work early Thursday to cook his favorite dinner (a recipe of Carole’s you’d found in storage) and treating him to a fancy new lingerie set that had been an absolute hit, you even let him take some pictures and videos for his next deployment which he couldn’t wait to watch over and over again on nights when he couldn’t hold you close. You were his sweet quiet girl and although the two of you couldn’t be more different it just made sense when you were together, he brought out a side of you that no one else could, he was a live wire, his bright smile and infectious energy captivated everyone who interacted with him but when he was with you? It was like puzzle pieces snapping in to place, a perfect mix of yin and yang that just fit seamlessly.

You and a few members of his squad had been planning him a surprise party for weeks, you’d mostly let Phoenix handle all the invites and had thrown yourself into decorating and finding a caterer, even Jake had helped by asking one of his buddies to dj for the night, the country club the boys played golf at had graciously let you rent the conference room and it was sure to be an evening to remember.

Friday night came and you had convinced him that he was just going out for dinner at the restaurant in the clubhouse with a few of his friends, dressed in a floral button down with some black slacks he looked like he’d stepped right out of a magazine, you were having trouble keeping your thoughts together as he pulled into the lot in his shiny blue bronco, swollen biceps stretching the soft material from all the pushups he’d been doing lately. You hadn’t even realized he’d been talking to you until he stroked your cheek, eyebrow cocked and a knowing smile on his face, of course he could see right through you, he knew you’d been checking him out. “Oh Bradley I’m so sorry, I don’t know where my head was, what did you say?” He chuckled as he unbuckled you and pulled you across the bench seat by your waist, rucking up the sides of your sundress as you went, using his massive left hand to curl around your jaw and the back of your neck as he kissed you breathless, running the other hand up your back and shoulder as he ran his tongue along your lips and you opened for him with a breathy moan, tongues tangled together and reducing you to a puddle. He pulled away much sooner than you would have liked, causing a whine to tear from your throat as you chased his lips. “I know it, I’m gonna take my time with you later sweetness but you did all this planning for dinner so let’s go eat and then I can have my dessert.”

When you made a sharp turn towards the conference room he scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, but quickly realized what you were up to as the doors were thrown open to everyone yelling surprise at him. He’d never had a surprise party, hell he hadn’t had a birthday party since he was a kid, he couldn’t believe that everyone had pulled this together under his nose, the boys quickly drug him away for a drink and you and Phoenix just laughed at how excited he looked. It looked like just about everyone Bradley worked with was here, including quite a few people you’d never seen before, but it was expected really; your boyfriend never seemed to meet a stranger and that much was evident by the wall to wall crowd dancing the night away. Somehow he’d pulled you into the middle of the dance floor, twirling you around the floor and kissing you breathless amongst the sweaty bodies and flashing lights, it should have been overwhelming but he always seemed to make you feel comfortable in the most vulnerable situations.

You finally excused yourself and headed for the rest room, you were sure you looked a mess and as you checked yourself over in the mirror you were definitely right. Kiss swollen lips and smudged lipstick, hair all in disarray and you giggled to yourself at the thought of what was to come later that night. As you stepped into the stall you heard a group coming in behind you, no doubt doing the same as you but when you heard them talking you realized they were gossiping about you. “I really don’t get it, she’s a librarian or something right? Could she be any more boring looking?” One said to the other and you could hear her friend agreeing, “I mean at least when you guys were hooking up it made sense, you both have so much in common, I’m sure he’ll get bored eventually Lisa don’t even worry about it, she can’t honestly think they’re going to last.”

You were so humiliated, had you really come off as plain and uninteresting? Was Bradley bored of you? You thought things were going so well and yes you had honestly been thinking about what a future with him might hold, it had only been six months but you’d never felt so loved by anyone. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you waited for them to leave, finally it got quiet and the booming music filtered through the room as someone opened the door, unlocking the stall you made your way out of the door only to realize the girl who had apparently hooked up with your boyfriend was still preening over herself in the mirror. You swiped your eyes with a tissue as you felt your skin flush and prickle, knowing her eyes were on you. She capped her lipstick and fussed with her hair, giving you a once over as she stepped towards the door. “No offense sweet pea, you seem nice but what Bradley needs is someone wild; a big personality to match his and you just aren’t that. You won’t be enough, he needs more than just a quiet wallflower to keep his attention, I’d enjoy it while it lasts if I were you.”

It felt like you’d been slapped, you couldn’t even bring yourself to respond as more tears came, you needed to get out of here; the room was spinning and you couldn’t get a deep breath, you stumbled out into the crowded space only to see that same girl with her hand on Bradley’s arm, you didn’t stick around to see anything else, your heart couldn’t bear it. Opening the ride share app you typed in your address and thanked the stars that there was only a two minute wait, typing out a half ass apology about feeling sick to Bradley and Natasha as you cried all the way home.

By the time Bradley got your message you were long gone, he had been wandering around looking for you but no one seemed to know where you’d been. He stepped outside and called you immediately but it went to voicemail, trying again with the same result. He messaged you ask if you needed him to come to you, but you replied that he should enjoy the party and that you needed to sleep, and as torn as he was he trusted that everything was ok, promising to bring you breakfast in the morning and spend the day with you. You’d cried until you couldn’t anymore and then had the worst sleep you’d had in ages, waking up to a pounding headache and knocking at your door. It was nearly 10 am, you weren’t the sleeping in type and when you checked your phone you had a litany of missed calls and texts. You groaned as you trudged down the hall to your door, not bothering to see who it was before you opened it, only to be met with the honey brown eyes of your ridiculously handsome boyfriend, coffee and a donut from your favorite shop in hand as he looked you over. “Oh baby you look like you feel awful, come on let’s get you back in bed, dr. Bradshaw has exactly what you need.” He’d said with a wink, he was acting as though everything was normal but you couldn’t bring yourself to reciprocate, just shrugging lightly and letting him usher you back to bed.

You’d let him in and settled into bed with him as he turned on a movie, but your smile wasn’t meeting your eyes and he could barely get a word out of you. He was really starting to worry that he’d done something wrong, but no matter how he wracked his brain he was coming up with nothing.

He’d told you once that when you smiled at him it was like you held all the answers in the universe in that one look, like you could solve any problem with a kiss and make everything ok. He wanted to be that for you, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what was wrong. You’d all but turned away from him in bed and fallen asleep halfway through the movie, leaving him even more confused than before, you’d planned him an elaborate party and now you wanted nothing to do with him? What the hell was going on?

When you woke a few hours later you felt more yourself, but turning over in bed to find it empty sent worry through you all over again. “Bradley?” You called as you came down the hall, hearing the drone of the tv you sighed in relief as you found him texting on his phone while some basketball game played in the background. He gave you a small smile and held his arms out for you, but you hesitated; and he noticed. “Ok, you gotta talk to me baby I’m completely lost here, what is going on with you? We were aces yesterday and now you don’t want to touch me, I can’t fix it if I don’t know why it’s broken honey, you gotta give me something.” Your eyes welled up with tears again as you plopped down on the couch, if Bradley had been confused he was even more so now. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I know I probably ruined everything. I know I’m not the prettiest or the most fun to hang out with but I want so badly to be enough for you and I’m worried that you’ll get tired of me.” You couldn’t meet his gaze, and he was looking at you like you’d grown a third eye, his handsome features scrunched up in confusion as he tried to process what you meant. “Baby have I been making you feel like that? Shit if I have I’m so sorry-“

“Wha-no! You haven’t at all, it’s just there was this girl last night at the party, she said you guys had dated and that I wasn’t your type, and then I saw you talking with her at the party and I just- I couldn’t stand it. Thinking that I was holding you back from being who you are, I never want to be that to you.” You were staring very intently at your hands when you saw his come in to view and wrap them around you, pulling you to face him. “That girl that you’re talking about, was it Lisa?” You nodded and he rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw so hard it looked like he might snap it. “Honey I never dated her, we had a drunken hookup one time and I told her she wasn’t my type, I don’t know what the hell she said to you but she’s dead wrong. You’re everything to me, and if you’d waited around long enough last night you would’ve seen the surprise I had planned for you.”

Now it was your turn to look confused, why would he have planned something for you on his birthday? But as you looked up at him he knelt on the floor, producing a small box from his pocket. “I mean it sweet girl, you’re everything I want and I had planned on asking you this last night but you vaporized before I got the chance. I don’t need some wild free spirit, I need someone to keep me on solid ground, someone who loves me for who I really am and not the persona I have to put out to everyone around me. I want quiet nights and dancing in the kitchen and maybe one day a house full of little ones but I want it with you. So if you still want that, will you be my wife?” He was crying now too, this perfect man was everything you’d ever dreamed of and you’d nearly let something so trivial take it from you. You didn’t have to think of an answer, surging forward into his arms as you both toppled to the floor, laughing and kissing as he placed his mother’s engagement ring on your finger. All he needed was right here, warmth and love and happiness, he couldn’t think of a better birthday present than you.

Tagging🏷️- @attapullman @mamachasesmayhem @sailor-aviator @bobgasm @bradshawssugarbaby @sebsxphia @roosterforme @sarahsmi13s @hangmansgbaby @goldenseresinretriever @mynameismckenziemae

[submariini]

When Finland’s Käärijä took the stage at this year’s Eurovision, a star was instantly, explosively born. With an outrageous energy, infectious presence and that oh-so-catchy hook, the Vantaa-based rapper may not have won the contest but he certainly snatched the hearts of those in his home country and beyond. We ask Käärijä the million dollar question: what next?

[full article under the cut]

Last May, a peculiar frenzy engulfed Finland. Virtually all green foods – cucumbers, especially – were sold out from stores. Buildings across the land were bathed in vivid green lights. Social media brimmed with green-themed parties, while data obtained by Swedish fintech company Klarna showed a 570 per cent increase in the online sales of neon green shirts.

This phenomenon was all thanks to Käärijä, the rapper who represented Finland in the 2023 Eurovision Song Contest. His now-infamous, blazing green puff sleeve bolero – dreamt up by Finnish broadcasting company Yle’s costume design team and which he dons when performing the smash hit track ‘Cha Cha Cha’ – had taken on a life of its own, the lush hue uniting the entire nation amid the competition. “It was incredible to see it happen and so cool being part of it,” Käärijä says. “It wasn’t planned at all – it was the people who created the commotion. I’ll definitely never forget it.”

When we speak over Zoom, Käärijä, whose real name is Jere Pöyhönen, is lounging in his minimal apartment in Vantaa, a city just outside Helsinki. He appears on my screen shirtless, a chunky gold chain dangling on his neck. On his head sits a pastel turquoise cap adorned with little cat ears. As he gestures with his hands, I spot flashes of poison green nail varnish. Pöyhönen’s chosen attire, or lack thereof, is extremely fitting – he typically performs bare-chested (“It gets so hot during my gigs”) and his Instagram handle is @paidatonriehuja, or ‘shirtless rascal’.

Hot off a performance in western Finland, the 29-year-old is enjoying his first days off in a while. It’s been a sweltering summer of non-stop touring, with fans flocking to festivals and concerts nationwide to see his explosive live show. Things are not winding down either, with Käärijä heading off on his first-ever European tour this month. Some of these shows sold out in mere minutes, an indication of his immense international following. “It’s so exciting; I’m definitely jumping into a new territory with that tour,” Pöyhönen says. “But I don’t have any expectations – I’m just going to let everything happen organically rather than stressing about it.”

Although he created one of this year’s buzziest songs, the guy on my screen is humble and, save for his look, almost un assuming. I remark on the stark contrast to his fiery and flamboyant stage presence. “Through Käärijä, I get to channel all the craziness, quirkiness and hyperactivity I’ve had since I was a child,” Pöyhönen says, describing himself offstage as “just this ordinary dude”. Without delving into further details, he tells me that the name Käärijä (translating roughly to moneymaker) stems from a history with gambling. Despite the darkness of its origin, he notes that the moniker is to be taken with a grain of salt.

While it might seem like Käärijä exploded into the public consciousness from obscurity, Pöyhönen has a long journey in music behind him. Born in Helsinki but having spent most of his youth in Vantaa, he started dabbling in the medium at just three years old. Coming from a musical family (“My dad and big brother both play the guitar”), jamming sessions were commonplace in the Pöyhönen household, his instrument of choice being the drums. “I was playing with pots and spoons before I got a set of those plastic kids’ drums,” he says. “When we moved to a bigger house, we built a band room downstairs where me and my brother spent a lot of time practising.”

At that time, rap music hadn’t yet entered Pöyhönen’s life; he was strictly a self-described “metal guy”. His older brother had instilled in him a love for the genre, particularly metal icons Rammstein. Upon starting high school, his musical taste broadened and he began listening to Eminem and popular Finnish rap groups Fintelligens and JVG. “Me and my friends were filming our own music videos to old rap songs, learning the words by heart,” Pöyhönen says. “It [making rap music] pretty much started as this humour thing I did with my mates.”

Encouraged by his loved ones, Pöyhönen began writing his own songs, still playing it for laughs. Turned out he had a knack for it. “Since I was little, I’ve been an avid storyteller – my imagination ran a little wilder than the rest of the kids’ at my school,” he says. “So when I started making music, I didn’t even need inspiration; I was able to whip up the lyrics from my head.”

But then, at 15, an unexpected turning point came by way of a severe sudden illness. Rushed to the hospital with ulcerative colitis, a chronic inflammatory bowel disease, Pöyhönen underwent emergency surgery to remove his colon. Had he not been treated immediately, the complications could have been fatal. “I was writing songs in the hospital – music became a source of strength for me,” he says. “I decided that if I make it through this, I’m going to give my all to music and be serious about it.”

After over a decade of hard work and countless hours in the studio, Käärijä released his first album, Fantastista (Fantastic), in 2020, but it would take three years for him to become a household name in Finland. After snapping up the top prize in Uuden Musiikin Kilpailu (the Finnish contest for new music) with his party anthem ‘Cha Cha Cha’, a song dedicated to a hedonistic night out fusing rap, electronic music and metal, he secured the coveted spot as his country’s entrant for the 2023 Eurovision, held in Liverpool. One of Pöyhönen’s craziest dreams had come true.

For Pöyhönen, Eurovision was “an amazing but immensely tough experience”. The event’s intense schedule and the little time carved out for practising surprised the artist. There was no room for errors or retakes once it was time for rehearsals. “They didn’t give much mercy,” he says. On the bright side, the long days filled with “lots of press conferences and waiting around” gave Pöyhönen a chance to get to know the other artists. “The group we had there was wonderful – there wasn’t a competitive atmosphere at all,” he says. One of the contestants he became especially close with was Sweden’s Loreen, with whom he exchanged numbers and promised to “meet up and talk about everything else but music”.

By the time the grand finale came, Käärijä’s explosive performance and infectious song had made him one of the favourites to win. Ultimately he came second, while Loreen nabbed first place. How did Pöyhönen handle the letdown? “It was a huge disappointment, but in the end, the feeling didn’t last long,” he says. “When I thought about how far I’d gotten, the incredible journey it was and all the new friends I made, I realised that these things are far more meaningful than winning.” Plus, he still achieved something major: ‘Cha Cha Cha’ made history as the first ever Finnish song to reach Spotify’s global most-listened charts. The track’s reach proved to Pöyhönen that language doesn’t matter; it’s all about creating a singular, infectious sound: “The mouth is just as much of an instrument as the piano or the guitar is,” he says.

Having made history, I ask Pöyhönen if he felt any pressure after the Eurovision bubble had burst. “Of course there are the thoughts of ‘what now?’ and ‘is this going to be it, will anyone be interested anymore next year?’ – I’m aware that the hype won’t last forever,” he says. “But I’m onto creating the next thing, trying not to feel any pressure for future releases. I haven’t done that before, so why would I do that now?”

Pöyhönen hints at a new album dropping sometime next year, but in the meantime, he’s enjoying the attention – including his Vogue Scandinavia debut. Shot at the extraordinary home of the late interior architect Antti Nurmesniemi and his wife, textile artist Vuokko Nurmesniemi, we find the space where Pöyhönen and Käärijä meet, the quiet confidence mingling with that more-is-more persona.

And while Käärijä might develop as a character (“I want to show that he’s more than just a bolero chap”), he’s adamant that he will stay true to his music and keep singing in Finnish, despite the sudden international attention. “In the end, I’m doing this for myself,” he says. “Also, why change something that works?”

Photographer: Karoliina Bärlund Stylist: Sanna Silander Talent: Käärijä Hair Stylist and Makeup Artist: Neea Kuurne Photographer Assistant: Milja Laakso Stylist Assistant: Nelli Korhonen

[nathaslosthershit]

Teenage Angst (Dad!CL16)

Summary: Charles Leclerc’s 16 year old daughter, Lila, has had quite the rebellious phase and the Monegasque just can’t figure out what to do. Luckily, his wife has some of the answers.

Charles loved his life. He loved his job. He loved his home. Most of all, he loved his family. But recently, his job seemed to interfere with his homelife and in turn impacted his relationship with his family. 

His family was well versed in the ways of having a husband and father as an Formula 1 driver. They were used to race weekends in exciting new countries, or race weekends spent on the couch as they cheered Charles on. Recently though, as his eldest daughter began to experience the highs and lows of teenage life, she began to resent her father for all the time he spent out of the house. 

Her dad was her most favorite person in the world but she hadn’t ever really cared for Formula 1. She liked watching her dad race and seeing all of the ‘honorary uncles’ she had gained over the years but without them she knew she would never have been a fan of the sport. So, when she began to associate it with taking her father away, she couldn’t stand to watch it anymore.

It had become a source of tension between her and her mom. Charles’ wife had tried her entire life to not force the kids into the world of Formula 1. If they didn’t want to kart, they did not have to. They didn’t need to try and follow in the impressive but expectant legacy their father was bound to leave behind. But they were expected to support their Dad. When Lila refused to watch the race with the family, fights would often break out. Her mom always kept her composure, not one to scream, but when she had a 16 year old trying to yell every hateful thing she could think of at her, it made it hard. 

After a particularly nasty fight, one where Lila was sent to her room and grounded, the tension in the Leclerc house was palpable. Even though his wife hadn’t told him about it, Charles could sense the shift the moment he walked in the door. He hadn’t been given a chance to inquire about it though because the moment he stepped foot in the entryway, he had been tackled by his youngest daughter, only 6 years old. His wife then too joined the mix, happy to have her husband back (and ecstatic to have another parent in the household to deal with her 16 year old). 

“Where is Lila?” Charles asked.

“Ah, she is a bit grumpy at the moment. I am letting her cool down before dinner, which is just about ready. Please quickly shower and get all the plane germs off before you sit to eat with us.” His wife demanded.

As Charles walked up to his room, he passed his eldest daughter’s bedroom and was about to walk in till he noticed she had locked the door, something that she seemed to be doing a lot more recently. Deciding maybe it is best she cools down a little, he walked right by.

Everyone, except Lila, was sat and waiting for the 16 year old to join at the table when after 5 minutes they decided to just start eating. When she finally walked down, she said a quick “hi” to her father, not even looking in his direction, before she started eating.

“Lila, why don’t you thank your mother for her cooking before you eat all the food she made?” Charles asked. Immediately, his wife tensed up, knowing that this would set her oldest daughter off.

“Why? She made pasta. It isn't exactly revolutionary or even hard.”

“She works hard to keep you both alive and happy each day. And the fact she put a lot of love into making sure you are fed well is something to be grateful for.” He was starting to raise his voice, which only caused Lila to turn her attitude up even more.

“She is just a stupid housewife living off the money you make, if it is so hard she can just hire help.” 

There was silence after this. Lila watched as her mother silently got up, tears streaming down her face, and walked into the kitchen, not wanting to cause a scene or have another fight with her daughter. Lila immediately regretted the things she said, once again just looking for the most hurtful things to say.

“Are you kidding me? I cannot believe that those disgusting things just came out of my very own daughter’s mouth! Why would you ever say such a thing about such a wonderful and loving mother? When the hell did this attitude develop?”

“Maybe you would know if you weren’t gone all the time racing stupid fucking cars. God, Dad, you have no right to try and parent me when you aren’t even here. Go back to Ferrari, they are the only family that wants you!” She was screaming now. Nothing she said was true, of course, she knew it, but she couldn’t stop till she made everyone feel as miserable as she did. 

“Enough! I am so disappointed and appalled by the things you are saying. Go to your room because I sure do not want to see you tonight!” At this, Lila stormed off, stomping up the stairs till she slammed the door. Charles could almost laugh at how cliche the whole situation was. Hormonal teenager upsetting her parents then storming off. But he couldn’t think about that now that he had his beautiful and sweet wife crying to herself in the kitchen, and his 6 year old daughter tearing up at all the fighting. “I am sorry, sweetie. Why don’t you go and put a television show on and I can get the special candy I got for you while I was away?” This seemed to do the trick as his youngest daughter immediately perked up and ran to the living room.  

Walking into the kitchen, Charles was met with his wife silently washing the dishes, but he could see how her body shook as she cried. She immediately melted into his embrace as he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“Charles, she has been like this for weeks now. It always is always worse when you are gone. I- I don’t know what to do. I feel like the world’s worst mother, always fighting and grounding her.”

“My love, it is in no way your fault. How she acted was out of line and I am so disgusted by it. None of what she said was true and I hope you know that.” He said, kissing his wife’s forehead.

“I know, I know. She is just trying to get us upset. I just don’t know how much more I can handle.”

“I am the worst husband for not being here. I am sorry, my love. If I knew it was this bad then I would have-”

“You would have what, Charles? You have a job that takes a lot of time. You will sometimes be out of the loop. And that is okay. You work hard to provide for us, so we can live such a nice and comfortable life. I heard what she said to you too. It wasn’t fair of her to get mad at your career. I think she is just upset that you are gone so often.”

“What do I do about that though? Retire? Because if it comes down to it-”

“No, no, no. You will retire when you are ready to, and that is surely not now. She is just hormonal and extremely emotional. Let me talk to her, I am sure she just misses her dad. You are her most favorite person, you know that right?” he nodded in response, “I would almost be jealous if we didn’t have a 6 year old who told me earlier today that I am the coolest person in the world, and that I was pretty enough to be a princess.” She joked.

“She takes after me, idolizes you in every way.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Smooth Talker. Let me go talk to Lila.” With a chaste kiss to the lips, she walked away in hope of reconciling this whole fight.  

Luckily, Lila’s door was unlocked. But she was blasting music so hard that she didn’t hear her mother come in until she screamed when she felt someone touch her back.

“Relaxe, honey, it's just me.” Her mother said, turning down the music.

It was silent as she awaited her daughter’s response. Both women at a standoff, seeing who would crack first. Luckily for them it didn’t last too long as it was Lila who lost. She burst into tears, quickly muttering apology after apology at her mother. 

“Sweetheart, it is okay. I was hurt by what you said but I was a teenager once too. I said some pretty mean things to my mom. I understand that it sometimes comes with the territory.”

“Did you say mean things to your dad too?” Lila asked, hiccuping from the sobs.

“No, but I didn’t have as nice of a father as you do. I was more scared of him. You on the other hand have the most wonderful father, and you said some nasty things to him tonight.”

“He already is disappointed I didn’t take after him and start racing. He probably regrets having a girl.” Lila sobbed, breaking her mother’s heart. Those things couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

“Honey, you know how excited your father was when I told him I was pregnant with you? It was far too early to know if you were a boy or a girl, but Charles was convinced he would have a daughter first. There was never a single moment that he wasn’t absolutely thrilled to be a girl dad. It didn’t matter if you were ever a boy or a girl though, he never for a single moment cared if his kids would follow in his footsteps. He has lost too many loved ones to this sport, he was honestly a little relieved when you said you didn’t want to go karting. But he always hoped you would support him. He just wants you guys to be proud of him.”

Lila once again burst into tears at this revelation, thinking herself a terrible daughter for not being supportive. “He must hate me now. I- I have been so terrible to him.”

“You could never do anything to make him hate you. I think he is just upset about the things you said but he knows you don’t mean them. Go talk to him, honey. It will clear everything up I promise.” Lila’s mom said as she rubbed her daughter’s back.

After a long hug, the 16 year old Leclerc went to the living room where she saw her father watching a kids tv show with her younger sister who was happily demolishing a bag of candy. Once Charles noticed his daughter’s arrival, and that Lila clearly wanted to say something to him but was hesitant, he sent the 6 year old off to go find her Maman. As he looked back at Lila, her tear stained face and puffy eyes broke his heart, even if he was still upset at her. 

Before he could say anything, she rushed into his arms, sobbing out an “I’m sorry Papa! I didn’t mean what I said, I promise. I love you and love watching you race, I just miss you so much!”

Giving her a few seconds to collect herself, he kissed her forehead, tears threatening to fall as he replied. “Lila, I know you didn’t mean those things. It breaks my heart to be gone as much as I am. I love you so much, honey. I am sorry for yelling.”

Pulling away, she smiled at the revelation that she wasn’t in trouble with her dad. “I apologized to Maman too. She told me to talk to you. I am sorry I have been so mean to her while you have been gone.”

“I know. She is always good at getting us back in line, huh? You are still grounded for what you said though.” She laughed at that. Maybe it was a little too naive to think she would be in the clear now and punishment free. “Maybe though, you can come to the next race? Just me and you? I can try to convince your Mama to let you miss a few days of school.”

“Yes! I would love that. But only if I can visit Uncle Pierre at Alpine.” She demanded, giggling with excitement.

“If you step foot in any garage that isn’t Ferrari, you will be grounded for two more weeks” Charles joked… kind of. Maybe he would only ground her one week for that. 

This was far from the last fight they had, but they eventually got out of this hormonal funk Lila had all been in. They had to look ahead though because they still had another daughter to deal with once she became a teenager. 

[grimesgirll]

“wouldn’t kill ya’ to smile, wouldn’t it, baby?”

your gaze goes upward from the fire you’re building to the man standing before you.

“fuck is there to smile about?” you quip quietly, pursing your lips and turning your attention back to the task at hand.

you should’ve known that would set off your ex boyfriend. the boyfriend who should really be your ex right now. you feel him behind you and eventually in front of you when he leans down to gently grasp your face. shane tilts your chin upwards in his hand while you simply glare.

“been gettin’ real tired of your attitude.”

“makes two of us.”

something in his eyes clouds and you can nearly see the frustration bubbling beneath his surface. “you know you could really have it worse somewhere else, girl.” he lets go of your chin. “you should be happy to be here and not out there alone.”

you can’t argue with him. after these past few weeks, you’d endure whatever macho act he manufactured just to make it to safety. anything at this point to get to richmond. wherever noah’s family was posted up had to be better than cannibal country or cop city.

playing the role of shane’s personal diplomat is exhausting but it’s kept conflict from escalating more than once. without you, he would’ve for sure gotten himself killed by now. it goes both ways as you can count on more than one hand the number of times he’s saved your life.

“we had a home. we’re gonna find a new one. until then you better be thankful to have someone looking out for you.” the man explains to you. “someone takin’ care of you.”

you snort. “you should be happy i let you fuck me.”

your boyfriend’s nostrils flare. “wanna repeat that?”

you don’t spare him a glance. “be happy i haven’t left you already. if it wasn’t the fucking end of times, our relationship would be toast.” you say that like it isn’t already.

but you didn’t leave him. how could you with the world falling apart around you?

and with your newfound sense of responsibility to lori and carl, staying with shane made the most sense. why not keep trying with someone who held you at night and fought tooth and nail to protect you.

that isn’t everything though.

he narrows his eyes at you. “wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t always findin’ one.”

“you fucking lori was a problem that i found?”

he throws his hands up. “why the fuck do you keep mentionin’ lori? that’s fucked,” he scolds your name. “that’s my daughter’s mother.”

“i’m not blaming her, i’m blaming you.” you discern. “you’ve been an asshole ever since everything happened.”

“c’mere.” shane pulls you to your feet and drags you away from the fire, leaving the task to sasha who’d been sitting nearby. shane has you on your feet and moving towards the back of the rest stop your group was posted up l in. “let’s take a walk.”

“shane! i’m about to make dinner over the fire,” you complain and pull back your arm but shane just wraps you in his embrace and wills you towards the grassy picnic area facing the forest.

“c’mon, one step at a time, baby. don’t make me carry you.”

“fucker.”

“watch it,” shane warns and steers you towards a dusty wooden gazebo where rick is standing with a radio, trying to get a signal from the looks of it.

“any luck?” shane calls out like he didn’t just forcibly walk you from the fire circle out here.

the bearded man turns around. he doesn’t have to shake his head or give you two a word to answer his friend’s question. an icy blue stare goes over you and shane.

“what’s going on?”

“oh, we just thought we’d see what you were up to. see if you were busy.” the ex-cop with his arms wrapped around you from behind declares.

rick drops his radio into his back pocket. “‘m not.”

“perfect. this one wants to thank you.”

rick’s dark brow goes up in question and you shake your head, asking, “huh?”

“what? you don’t wanna thank rick? don’t be rude, baby.”

you owe the man your life a million times over.

rick had saved you, shane, judith, carl, and the others so many times. he’d led you through the debilitating winters and the most nightmare inducing storms you could imagine facing in the end of times. metaphorical or not, rick had seen you all through more than you’d ever pay him back for.

the man who stayed up with you while you settled judith and helped you soothe the little girl who didn’t belong to either of you.

the rugged man looks on from shane to you not quite comprehending. it only takes the feel of shane’s hand on your ass to understand.

fuck. not now, shane, you plead internally.

“i want you to show our friend rick how grateful you are that he’s gotten us this far. huh?” shane places a steel hand on your back as he shoves you forward towards rick, nudging you onto your knees when you’re dawdling too much for him to tolerate. “go on.”

“shane.” the man above you warns.

“no, rick.” your boyfriend stops him, dark irises widening. “i see the way she looks at you and the way you look at her. don’t feel bad about it.” he chuckles. “think about it as payback for lori.”

a “what the fuck” is breaching your lips before you know it.

“why do you talk to her like that?” rick questions, chest puffing out slightly. “everything she’s stood you through.”

shane shrugs. “i’m just thinkin’ it’d help us all relax. lower tension, y’know. after we were almost slaughtered like cattle back there.”

your mind flashes to terminus. you hadn’t seen rick, shane, and some of the other men of your group tied up and prepared to have their throats slashed, but the scene made your stomach flip.

rick looks down at you, maybe considering the fact that he does have a lot of steam to let off. nearly a year’s worth to be honest.

“you been thinkin’ about me?” he inquires with a step closer to you, dipping his hand to cup your face.

beneath your leader, you feel small. ten feet tall, you’d feel insignificant compared to rick. that man has more guts and drive than you could ever admit to. more than shane could ever dream of. the thought scratches an itch you didn’t realize lay dormant.

“yes,” you exhale sweetly, almost giving away your giggle when shane has to pick up his jaw. “especially ever since the prison fell.”

“really?”

you nod. “thank you, rick.” you express your gratitude with parted lips. “you take such good care of all of us. if you really want to use my mouth, i would blow you.”

shane is stuttering a curse and rick just whistles.

“good girl,” shane praises. “never knew you had it in you.”

you wait on your knees for rick, beaming up at him.

rick has the look of a man considering letting his best friend’s girlfriend - who he has at least fifteen years on - blow him. he thumbs your soft lips, trying to convince himself not to. even under that newly acquired hardened exterior, rick is calculated.

it’s not until he lowers his hands at his sides and croons a, “only if you want to, darlin,” that has you undoing his belt and yanking down his pants.

you slow your roll once you come into contact with his underwear. beneath those dark blue boxers is a rock hard cock.

a noise escapes you that you hope your boyfriend doesn’t hear. rick is bigger than shane. you want to burst into laughter. shane had to have seen the outline of rick’s thick cock sometime during their years together in some locker room somewhere.

thoughts of if he’ll fit or not consume you momentarily until your hands are moving automatically and you’re met with the real thing. you feel hands in your hair and tense.

“down and up. you know how to do it.”

shane is behind you with his sturdy hands on top of your head, ready to guide you down onto his friend.

“just let her do what she wants.” rick snaps at the other man, exhaling at the feel of your hand around him.

“fine.” shane throws his hands up and goes to lean against the rest stop information board.

ever the sore loser, shane pouts but lets you sink further on your knees to begin by trailing a stripe from rick’s balls up to the tip of his cock. back down you go again to lick circles around him, working a pattern with your tongue.

the noises coming out of rick have you agreeing with shane - he really needs this. after everything, rick deserves to close his eyes and let you descend below his shaft to suckle first one side, then the other, while he lays his hands in your lustrous hair.

eventually you’re lapping around again and you circle your tongue around him, eyes widening in surprise at his moans.

shane snickers. “you like her mouth, rick? me too. don’t blow your load too early, bud, i know you probably can’t help it.”

you feel the man in your mouth tense above you. he ignores shane, snapping his hips lightly into your face instead. despite the initial humiliation of the situation and the shane of it all, you find yourself getting excited. a wet patch forms and you can tell by how hard you grind down onto yourself as rick starts to twitch.

“needy slut,” shane comments.

you roll your eyes, not missing a beat as you bob up and down on your leader. his spit covered dick disappears in and out of your mouth. you do your best to fit what you can of his length that is too large for your mouth.

rick doesn’t have a problem though. all he needs is to dig a little deeper in your hair and angle his cock down your throat. you’re so startled you gag but at the same time you moan and whimper around him.

a cry around him from a particularly harsh jostle of his pelvis against your face is what it takes to start spilling in your mouth. your foggy brain can barely decipher what to do next but you remember that you’re wearing one of your favorite sweaters and suck him dry.

rick isn’t out of your mouth when shane is nearly shoving him out of the way and grasping onto you, directing your head towards his now nude dick.

“my turn,” shane takes rick’s spot instantly, not sparing you more than a breath or two before his girthy cock is against your lips.

“that’s not good for her knees, man.” rick is saying but shane just laughs.

“you weren’t sayin’ that when you were in the one in her mouth.”

shane is taking up your mouth before you know it and you gag immediately when he drives like he’s aiming for your uvula.

your noises muffle around his cock but the sheriff looking on still hears them - is still affected by then. every pump of his fellow ex-officer’s hips made you gag, forced to swallow the burning feeling building up in your throat.

rick can’t take his eyes off you. after receiving the same treatment, he’s still mesmerized by the whole thing; the spontaneity of it, how absurd it all was, how soft and plush your mouth had been, how perfect you are.

“never knew you were such a whore,” shane groans with a gasp of your name, pushing your head down when you start to slide up and off of him to say something. “fuck, you’re so good for me, baby, always have been.”

his grip is buried in your long hair. rick observes with his half hard cock in his hand, eyebrow arching lightly at the sight of shane’s face. your boyfriend tightens his grip and before you know it his cock is thrust into your throat. a few more slams of his hips and he’s holding you firmly while you gulp down his length - and his release.

shane backs out of your mouth only to snake a rough hand down your pants.

“shane!” you’re nearly squealing when he thumbs down your panties and moves towards your sensitive patch of nerves. your face is overtaken with a blush again as your leader palms his hard on on the bench next to you.

whispering low in your ear, your boyfriend hums;

“now, you wanna show rick how grateful you are with your pussy?”

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 27, Unhinged - Pt. 8

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, violence, voyerism, coercive sex, manipulation, Pocket reaching her Ultimate Bitch Form.

Word Count: 1.5k

Previously On...: Carthage has been spying on you and manipulating both you and Bucky from Day One.

A/N: THE FIRST TIME DIDN'T COUNT, GUYS!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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“She was just toying with you, Jamie, because she could. She doesn’t respect you. Do you honestly think she would pick you over Steve Rogers? Captain Fucking America? Especially with all the pain you’ve caused? The lives you’ve ended? Come on, Jamie, don’t be dumb.” Video Jade caressed Bucky’s shoulders.

Bucky’s face fell, and you knew she’d hit him where it hurt him the most.

Jade sat back on her haunches on the mattress. “Don’t be stupid, Jamie,” she reiterated. “Do you really think she’d want someone like you, who can’t even control their cock in a fight, when she could have America’s Golden Dick? I bet they laugh at you, how easy it is for them to get away with it, right under your nose. You think it’s just a coincidence that, as soon as you're out of the country, she’s seen by all of New York’s elite getting cozy with your best friend? The one person you asked her to stay away from? She was just waiting for you to get out of the picture so she can show her real boyfriend off to the public.”

You watched as Bucky’s entire body clenched, his face tightening in anger. “You said you wanted to get back at her,” Jade urged, putting her hands back on Bucky’s body. “To punish her for what she did. So punish her, Jamie. Use me. Use me to make her hurt the way she made you hurt. Don’t let her play you for a fool.” You saw Bucky struggle, at war with himself, but you could see the anger pulse through him, and you knew that, with this snake whispering in his ear, there was no way he could have come to any other conclusion than that you had betrayed him. You almost felt sorry for him– he didn’t have a chance.

“Come on,” she said, leaning Bucky back so he was lying propped up on the pillows. “You won’t even need to do anything. Let me take care of you, okay? Let Vixen make you feel good.” Bucky scrunched his eyes closed, putting his hands over his face. It was painfully clear he wasn’t an enthusiastic participant, but it still hurt knowing that he had been so angry at you for something you hadn’t done that he was willing to do this.

“We just have to get Little Jamie to come out to play,” Jade teased as she straddled him. Your view was obstructed by her body, but you had no doubt that she was jerking him off in an attempt to get him hard. 

It just… seemed to be taking a really long time. 

“Come on Jamie,” Jade said after a few minutes. “You gotta help me out here. Give me a little something to work with.”

It seemed to finally work after a while, and Jade re-positioned herself as she lined Bucky up with her entrance. You couldn’t watch anymore, so you shut your eyes. It didn’t stop you from hearing the horrible sounds of her moaning as she bounced up and down on his cock, though.

You thought you were going to be sick, but then you heard it, so soft that if you had your eyes open, your senses diluted, you would have missed it. “Pocket,” Bucky moaned. “Fuck, Pocket. Keep going, baby. I’m so sorry, doll. I’m so sorry. I love you so fucking much.”

His moans grew louder. “Pocket,” he cried, “God, baby, I miss you so fucking much!”

You started laughing. It was the fucking weirdest, most uncomfortable position you’d ever found yourself in in your entire life, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Oh my god,” you panted, trying to catch your breath as Jade looked down on you in confusion. “That’s the most pathetic thing I have ever seen!”

Jade wrapped a hand roughly around your throat and squeezed threateningly, cutting off your laughter. “What did you say?” she seethed.

You coughed when she’d released your neck and you could breathe again. A few drops of your blood had fallen from your nose to rest on Jade’s wrist. “I said, that’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” You jutted your chin toward the phone she still held. “You think that’s proof that he wants you? Oh, honey. You truly are a stupid cunt, aren’t you? He couldn’t even get hard for you without thinking about me. You were a convenient fleshlight– just a hole when I wasn’t available.”

You would have felt monstrous speaking to any other woman like that, truly, but you had to do everything in your power to keep her distracted, to keep her from moving forward with her plan to auction you off to the highest bidder, so that you could buy some time for the calvary to arrive. And besides, Carthage wasn’t just another woman– she was your fucking nemesis, and she deserved every foul word you could throw at her. 

God, you hoped Tony showed up first. The image of him sending Jade through the wall with a repulsor blast was enough to send you into fits of giddy laughter. Then maybe Bruce could toss her around like a ragdoll, the way he had with Loki. You’d pay to see that. You wondered if Carthage had headbutted you hard enough to cause a concussion– you certainly weren’t feeling fully in your right mind.

Jade backhanded you, the force of the blow so hard that your head snapped to the side, leaving you seeing stars. “You’re LYING!” she shouted. Grabbing you by the hair, she hoisted you up, metal chair and all, and slammed your face into the nearest wall. Perhaps she’d rattled a screw loose, because you couldn’t seem to get your laughter under control. “Don’t damage the merchandise, Vixey,” you coughed, spitting out even more blood. “Wouldn’t want to hurt my chances at auction, would you? Bad for business.”

“You fucking bitch!” Jade shouted. She ripped your bindings free from the chair and lifted you up by the throat. “Fuck–” she punched you in the stomach– “the auction!” In the face. “I’m gonna–” In the solar plexus– “fucking kill you–” back to the face– “myself!” Each blow was excruciating, and you were sure you’d heard a rib or two crack under the force of her fist, but still, you kept laughing at her. 

“Poor little fox,” you wheezed through the blood that was pouring down the back of your throat. “All those years wasted, thinking you could ever have a chance with him.” Your head lolled to the side as you tried to look up at her through your rapidly swelling eyelids. “Thinking you were special, that you were made for him, and you can’t even get his dick up. He’s so repulsed by you, he has to imagine being with someone else!”

“Shut up!” Jade screeched. “Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” She grabbed your left arm in her hands and snapped it. The pain was blinding, sending your vision into a white hot pulses. You screamed, holding the broken appendage to your body, as though that would protect you. You didn’t dare look down at it; knowing you’d be sick at the sight if you did, of your arm dangling uselessly at an unnatural angle. Instead, you curled yourself up into the fetal position, cradling your arm close to your core. 

Jade began pacing the room, tugging at her hair and mumbling to herself. You couldn’t quite make out what she was saying– you only caught snippets of words, like “fucking whore,” and “mine.” The girl had completely lost it, had completely gone off the deep end. Meanwhile, you suspected you were going into shock as you listened to the rat-a-tat-tat of your rapid heartbeat. 

No. You cocked your head, listening. That wasn’t the sound of your heart, beating out of your chest– that was the sound of gunfire echoing through the bowels of the base. You strained your ears. Mixed within the gunshots, you could hear screaming, voices crying out in agony and then cut short, as if their owners suddenly lost access to their breath. 

Through the distant din, you could make out a familiar voice, roaring with rage, and the sound filled your heart up like a balloon. “POCKET!”

You started laughing again.

Jade turned to look at you, her expression furious. 

“I feel sorry for you, Vixen,” you said, grinning like a madwoman. “Me?” she asked you incredulously. “I just snapped your arm like a fucking twig and am going to enjoy the shit out of killing you nice and slowly, and you feel sorry for me?”

You nodded vigorously, gleefully noting that the sound of battle was growing closer. Bucky called for you again, his voice contorted with rage and worry. Jade turned her head toward the sound, noticing it for the first time. “Yup,” you agreed, forcing yourself to stand and face her. You could feel the blood dripping from the corners of your mouth as you smiled from ear to ear. “Seems like my boyfriend’s looking for me, and when he sees what you’ve done, he’s going to kick your fucking ass.”

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

[nhlclover]

i can see you | jack hughes

summary: a secret relationship with your brothers teammate is becoming more and more difficult to keep hidden.

request: yes / no

warnings: semi-nsfw content, making out, implications of sex (i think?)

a/n: based on 'i can see you' by taylor swift. woah look at me posting!!! life got so busy recently so i am so sorry for not posting. thank you guys for the continuous support, it truly means the world. i might open requests again soon but i am balancing my summer job (camp counsellors 4 the win) so it might not be open for long. love you guys loads🩷 also I'm sorry i kinda hate this...

word count: 0.8k

Dawson and you walk into the reception area, taking in the sight of the entire Devil's roster dancing to Abba. You two step off to the side, grabbing glasses of wine from the bar and watching as your brother's teammates slightly embarrassed themselves. 

“Hey, man.” You hear his voice say. Looking to your right, he’s standing there, just feet away, in his new black Prada suit. The same suit you picked out as you spent 2 hours on the phone with Jack going over options. He looked chiselled in the suit which fit him in all the right places. You thanked his tailor in your head.

You never understood why your brother held off on introducing you to Jack. It took a couple of months before you were introduced to him at a game. Then you understood. Jack was the kind of guy you could easily become addicted to. His laugh, his humour, the way his eyes would make you feel like the only one in a room of hundreds.

“Wassup bud?” Your brother says, pulling Jack in for a hug. “You clean up nice. Your mom dress you tonight?”

“Not my mom, but I did have some help.” He chuckles. You know he’s talking about you but you don’t dare react to his comment.

The two of you were unsure how your brother would react to news of the two of you being... whatever you were. But suffice it to say you didn't think it would go well. To save both of you from being killed, you simply kept it a secret. Move fast and keep quiet.

“Oh don’t tell me someone was finally able to strap you down?” Dawson teases, clapping him on the shoulder.

Jack pushes Dawson's hand away giving him a playful shove. He turns to you, your breath catching as your eyes lock with one another. 

“How’re you, y/n?” He asks. 

“Uh just fine, thanks for asking.” You reply.

Brown Eyed Girl begins to play through the speakers and Dawson has already abandoned you in favour of Nico and Timo, who had both discarded their ties. 

“You look fantastic.” Jack says to you.

Your cheeks flush pink. Jack, loving his effect on you, flashes a delightful grin adding to the hue. “Thank you, Jack.”

He shoves a hand in his pants pocket, fishing around briefly before pulling out a small piece of paper. “Here.” Is all he says, pushing the scrap in your hand before walking back to the rest of the group.

You step off to the side, setting your wine glass down and unfolding the paper. Written in Jack's handwriting is ‘meet me @ midnight’. A small, uneven heart is drawn underneath. You smile to yourself, tucking the note into your handbag.

You join the rest of the wedding, spending the remaining hours thinking about Jack's note. The pair of you throw longing glances across the room to one another but don’t get close enough for more than a brush of knuckles. But that slight touch sent a rush of electricity from your hands to your feet. 

There are 5 minutes left till midnight when you excuse yourself from the still lively party, slipping down the hall of the country club that the bride and groom had chosen as their venue. Jack never told you where to meet him so you wander around, looking behind every door for the shaggy-haired boy. 

You had lost yourself within the corridors of the venue, having made a great many lefts and rights that you had lost track of. You keep walking until you finally spot a figure at the end of the hall staring out the window into the inky sky. 

The click of your heels makes Jack spin around. His necktie is loose around his collar, the top two buttons undone. 

“Hey.” You say softly.

“Holy shit.” Jack breathes out.

You stop in front of him, furrowing your eyebrows. “What?” You ask.

“You look fucking amazing.” 

Jack’s hands are on your hips as if being pulled to them by a magnetic force. He dips his head down, connecting your lips. He presses soft kisses to your lips, slowly trailing them down your jaw to your neck. Jack slips his arms from his suit jacket, throwing it to the floor.

His hands are back on hips as his lips are on yours. There’s a certain sense of hunger as you both know you don’t have much time. He walks you back, pressing you firmly between his firm body and the wall. Pinning a knee between your legs, he holds you up as his kiss weakens your knees. 

The pair of you are breathless when you break apart. His hair has fallen over his eyes, his lips a light scarlet colour. You reach up, brushing away his bangs. His lips hook to the left as he flashes a smirk. You pull him back in, feeling his lips smile against yours. 

The both of you are suddenly trying doorknobs, looking for an empty room. You finally slip into an empty dining room, you taking a seat on a table. His hands push up the skirt of your dress, the music from the wedding drowning out any noises the two of you made.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Historia de Amor

Hey guys!

This is a new story and it's really a very long. I asked you by a survey if you prefer that I separate the story into several chapters but you answered me no :)

I didn't put all the ideas I had in this story however, I still keep some under the elbow.

Tell me if you liked it and what is the part you preferred :)

Resume : Lots of part of life with the love of your life.

TW : Physic hurt

PART 2 IS HERE and BONUS CHAPTER HERE

Keeping a facade smile on her face, Ona looked around and felt a bit lost. It had only been two weeks since she arrived in Manchester from Spain and from the height of her 21 years she had trouble to cope with her new environment. She hardly spoke the language of the country where she had just moved in and despite the warm welcome she had received from her teammates, she needed a little time to adapt. She was relieved to have the opportunity to speak Spanish with some of her teammates, like Ivana. It was relaxing for her. She was doing better and better in English, even though she found her accent horrible.

However, tonight it was difficult for her to follow the conversations that existed around her. It was late and she had had training this morning, but when Alessia invited her to attend her brother’s birthday party, Ona couldn't refuse. She knew it would make it easier for her to connect with her teammates and she had a great evening. But between the alcohol she had drunk and fatigue, it became a little too much for her.

So she politely apologized to her table mates and got up to go outside and breathe some fresh air. The anniversary took place in a sort of old English castle that the Russo had rented for the occasion, also providing rooms for people who would have drunk too much to return home safely. Ona went out in the courtyard, the sound of gravel under her shoes bringing her a rather surprising calm but nevertheless not pleasant. A female silhouette caught her eyes and she turned her steps in her direction.

Your direction.

"Hello" she says gently, approaching you.

Focused on your camera, you didn’t see her arrive, but you raise your head and smile at her.

"Hi" you simply answer before putting your attention back on the screen of your camera.

A silence sets in, but it is not disturbing. The presence of Ona doesn't bother you, quite the contrary actually. You briefly glance at her and realize that she is looking at the screen of your camera while you are sorting out the shots you made during the evening.

Ona, realizing only now that she was staring, so she bites her lip and hurries to turn her gaze away.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to…"

"Don’t worry" you smile again before placing your camera on the embankment against which Ona leans, while you are sitting yourself. "The lights from inside kept me from seeing the pictures properly, which is why I went out. Would you like to see the ones where you appear?"

Ona looks at you again a few moments before giving you a shy smile and nodding. It takes you a few minutes to find the ones you are looking for and Ona finally decides to break the silence.

"So you’re like the official photographer?"

"Kind of" you laugh softly. "I am the little sister of Giorgio’s best friend. They offered me to be the photographer for the evening, it’s more a passion than anything else. Here you go."

You finally find what you were looking for and show two shots you made of Ona. She appears with Alessia and Ella, but you must admit that they are the only ones we can find her.

"They are pretty"

"They are not exceptional" you answer objectively, shrugging your shoulders, before biting your lip by looking at her thoughtfully.

"What?"

You smile when you see her looking at you and gently frowning. You had already noticed her in the crowd, looking a little lost but a smile that illuminates the entire room. Closer, you can more easily see the features of her face and you realize that she is even more beautiful than you could have imagined. But you don’t share your thoughts with her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. After all, you don’t know her at all.

"I can make more pictures of you here, if you want?"

Ona seems surprised by your proposal and you quickly realize that it's can be a little weird. For the first time since she joined you here, you’re the one who’s uncomfortable. You even blush, happy that night has fallen for some time. Quietly scraping your throat, you resume before she can even answer you.

"You don’t have to answer me. Excuse me, that was a stupid idea."

"No" she cuts you quickly by putting a hand on your arm. "No, I was just surprised. But why not, but I’m not used to doing that, other than for the shootings of the new jerseys. Since I’m a footballer. I play for Manchester United, with Alessia?"

You laugh softly, first because you're relieved that she doesn't take you for a psychopath but also because it's probably the longest sentence that she heard pronounced. Alessia being the little sister of your brother’s best friend, you have often had to go to one of his matches.

"I suspected it a little, I couldn't come to see you play since the beginning of the season, but since you arrived with Ella and Alessia..."

You don't finish your sentence and smile softly, thinking that if you had known, you would have returned more quickly to the bleachers. While you play mechanically with the strap of your camera, you see Ona gently tilt her head looking at you, probably intrigued by this information.

"You follow women football?"

"Yes… but I must confess myself" you smile maliciously.

"Tell me?"

"I’m more of an Arsenal supporter."

A scandal, an aberration according to your brother. But that’s how it is, you’ve been a fan of Leah Williamson almost all your life and by default you support Arsenal.

"Qué?!" exclaims Ona, looking shocked with her hand on her heart, and you burst out laughing at her.

She also laughs and you discover your new favorite melody. Okay girl, you’re gonna have to focus because otherwise you’re gonna go home tonight with a solid crush.

"What about these pictures?"

***********

The next morning, you got up around 10 am and the first thing you did was plug your camera into your computer. You didn’t take care of Giorgi and Luca’s photos or the cake, but instead you hurried to look for the photos you took of Ona in the course of the castle. Without wanting to throw flowers at you, they are incredible but your talent is certainly not for much.

Ona is resplendent, sometimes smiling, sometimes shy, from the front, from the side and even from the back. You scroll through the photos you took of her for many minutes before opening your photo editing software to correct the light. You do nothing else, there is nothing to touch up. Ona is perfect.

The Latin gave you her email address to send her the photos, but you wait until the afternoon to do it, hoping to receive a quick answer from her. You know that she has no training that day, that’s why Giorgio chose that night to organize her party.

The answer from Ona arrives at the end of the afternoon and from this moment will start an exchange of emails then messages when you decide to pass on your phones, so that it is more convenient apparently.

You and Ona talked almost non-stop for the next ten days. Manchester playing away the following weekend, it's only during the week that Ona offers you to go for a coffee together. You obviously accept quickly, too happy to see her again without having to initiate the thing. You tried to grab information about Ona, but going through three intermediaries (your brother, Alessia’s brother AND Alessia) made things too complicated. And when your brother started teasing you, you quickly gave up.

So you turned on social media, but you quickly realized that apart from a few photos of her friends and family, Ona was rather discreet about her romantic life. You couldn’t even tell if she was attracted to women and you didn’t have the courage to ask her directly. You’ve seen a picture of her with the rainbow flag, but it may very well say that she supports the cause without necessarily being part of it.

You had a long debate about how you should dress for this date. It was just a coffee at 10:00 in the morning, Ona having informed you that she had the day off. For your part, with your university studies, you had the opportunity to manage your work as you wanted.

After much hesitation, you ended up opting for an artificially ripped jeans, a white t-shirt and a leather jacket, all embellished with your eternal red Converse. Your hair is released freely and cascade down your shoulders. Ona having a car, she offered to pick you up and it's with a bit of nervousness that you enter her car when she parks in front of your building.

"Holà!" she greets you joyfully.

Her smile is contagious and you say hello before closing the door and fastening your seat belt. You feel a heartbeat when she lays a kiss on your cheek, but you try to quickly regain your countenance. You got the information from one of your friends that the Spaniards might have a different approach to physical contact, but it got out of your head. That moment wasn’t unpleasant though.

"Where are you taking me?"

Ona gives you a quick look before turning her attention back on the road since she has restarted her car. You notice her phone hanging on the dashboard, Waze plugged in to show her the right way.

"I don’t really know Manchester yet, so I asked Ivana to recommend a place. I hope you'll like it."

You nod and sit comfortably against the seat of her car. You have no doubt that you will have a good time with her. You have about fifteen minutes to travel and you take the opportunity to ask her about her activities last night. Despite the fact that you write to each other very day, you are relieved to see that you still have things to say to each other. And especially that your conversations are as fluid oral as written.

When you arrive at your destination, Ona hurries out of her car to open your door. You find yourself blushing slightly, thanking her with a small smile. The fact that you found a parking place so close to the establishment is probably close to the miracle and you take this as a sign of fate.

Ona also holds the door of the establishment and guides you to one of the tables when the waitress signals you to settle where you want. After consulting you with a glance, the Spanish woman makes her choice on a table at the back of the room, probably allowing to have some privacy. She may not be a rock star but it must happen quite regularly to her to be recognized. You realize now that you’ve never asked yourself about it.

"Have you been here before?"

You smile at Ona and shake her head negatively, assuring her that this is the first time. You had already passed several times ahead of course, having grown up in Manchester it would have been difficult not to. That said, the place is beautiful, simple and seems well maintained. Not to mention that the menu seems pretty great.

The waitress arrives a few minutes after you are installed, notepad in hand to take your order. You refrain from frowning when you see her look at Ona with an air a little too insistent for your taste while the footballer still deciphers the card to order. You could have sunk into a spiral of jealousy if she hadn’t taken your breath away with her smile looking back at you right after giving the menu back.

"How’s your file going?" asks the Latin girl while keeping her smile.

You briefly bite the inside of your lower lip before answering it, still not understanding what she can find interesting in your literature studies. But you finally find yourself explaining to her where you are and you realize that not only does she ask you questions, but they are also related to what you have already told her before.

"Are you doing something on Saturday?" asks the Latina after you receive your order.

"Not really. Why?"

"We’re playing against Arsenal… and I was wondering if you wanted to come see me play?"

The proposal pleases you, and the fact that the brunette uses the term "me" rather than "us" even more. But you decide to tease her and offer her a big innocent smile.

"Mh depends, will you introduce me to Leah Williamson?"

Understanding immediately that you are only trying to play with her, Ona hides her amusement behind her milkshake a few seconds before answering you.

"If you want me to never speak to you again, this is the best thing to do"

You laugh gently and bite your lower lip again watching Ona play with her straw and the end of her drink. You find the dimples that dig into her face every time she laughs or smiles just adorable. Wishing not to let the slightest doubt hover between you two, you lean slightly in her direction to attract her attention again.

"I will come to see you play with pleasure"

Ona smiles at you and you feel yourself melting like vanilla ice cream in full sun. Your gaze exchange lasts a little longer than two simple friends would, but you have a hard time pulling yourself out of the intensity of her chocolate pupils. It's only when the waitress arrives, asking you if you want something else that you're back to reality. After questioning you with a look, Ona simply refuse for both of you- After you have shared the bill, you find yourself outside, breathing again the fresh air.

"You want to go for a walk?" you propose to Ona. "I could show you a couple of nice places around here, if you want."

"I would love to"

With that you are gone in the small streets of Manchester, where tourists don't normally come. You don't meet many people, but with the sun shining on Manchester today it seems to make everything beautiful. Or is it the presence of the Hispanic? Because of your physical proximity, your hands touch a few times, each time sending you a discharge of electric current.

"Is this a date?"

Your question escapes from your lips even before you have time to realize it and it seems to surprise Ona as much as you. She turns entirely in your direction, leaving the sight of the city that you had after climbing in the heights.

"I hoped it would be"

Ona’s answer is whispered, but you smile softly as you nod.

"Good"

Enjoying the sun, you sit on a bench to chat even more, eating toasted almonds and hot chocolate when it’s time for a snack.

On your way back, your hands eventually join gently but surely. It's first the little finger of Ona who clings to yours and you discover with amusement that she watches you from the corner of the eye to see your reaction. Realizing that you don't seem uncomfortable and that you are even getting closer to her, her relief is such that you feel her release the breath she was holding.

When you get back to her car, your two hands are tightly tied and you miss the heat of Ona’s palm against yours the moment you have to let's go to get into the car.

"I’ll take you home"

It’s more a statement than a proposal and you don’t even think of refusing when Ona informs you of her decision once you arrive in front of your building. You postpone the time to say goodbye while remaining a few minutes to discuss in front of the door of the building. You hesitate to ask her to come home with you, but it is now the beginning of the evening as the day passed quickly.

As you finally say goodbye, Ona leans over you and gently places her lips in the corner of yours. The heat wave that it gives you is mixed with a little feeling of frustration, which pushes you to follow Ona’s movement when she steps back. If you had wanted to hide this gesture, it would have been useless. The Latin obviously saw you.

"Not on the first date Hermosa" she whispers mischievously before stepping back a few steps and returning to her car, waving at you with her damn beautiful smile on her gorgeous face.

Saturday, like you promised her, you are around the pitch looking her play.

You arrived for the training to not miss anything of her on the field, curious to see her evolve with a ball at her feet. After her warm-up ends, she quickly makes her way to you, with a big smile on her lips. Leaving the small group that accompanied you, partly formed of your brother and Alessia’s family, you join her, leaning against the barrier.

"I’m glad you’re here. But I see you don’t have a jersey?"

You laugh softly, knowing full well that she's refers to one of the discussions you had the night before, during which you teased each other and where you threatened to show up with an Arsenal jersey.

"I didn’t have time to find one, but I promise, next time. And a Manchester's one."

Ona’s smile is getting bigger, maybe partly because you just promised to come watch her again, before you even know if you’ll like this game. She knows you watch football from time to time and sometimes you come here, but coming to see her is different. Unfortunately, the Spanish has no time to stay longer. The members of her team call her and you smile as you wave her to join them.

This will not prevent Ona from returning a few minutes later, walking hesitantly at you with a shy smile, a jersey with the Manchester logo in her hand. You take it and after folding it, you realize that her name and her number are on it. Without hesitation, you put it over your sweater.

***********

Later that night, you were in your apartment accompanied by Ona. After she offered to take you home, you had this time the courage to offer her a last drink before she heads home.

Sitting on your couch, you turned on your TV with a shitty reality show that neither of you really follows, rather focused on the discussion you have about the game. Ona's team won at the last minute of the game, managing the suspense until the end. You had a great time actually and you even miss some things on the pitch, all your attention focused on a certain Spanish defender. Alessia scored the last goal actually, for the greatest pride of her brothers.

"Not too disappointed that you haven't met Leah?" Ona teases you and you smile.

"I’ll get over it" you assure her, laughing softly.

Ona smiles again and you can’t help but admire her for a few seconds, your head resting on your hand, itself resting on the back of the sofa. In front of you, Ona imitated your position. After she showered, she put on a sports jogging bottoms and an orange hoodie. Her hair is gathered into a messy bun and a few strands fall on her face. Delicately you put a strand behind his ear.

"You look tired" you whispers, your fingers brushing against the skin of her cheek when you take your hand back.

"I am" she admits without stopping looking at you.

"You look beautiful, too" you whispers again, earning a new smile.

"No, that's you"

You roll your eyes before shaking your head while smiling. You don't want to play the fake modest, but in your eyes if there is one of you who was blessed by the fairy of beauty, it's definitely Ona. You look back at her right after though, feeling her hand under your chin. She gently raises her face in her direction, allowing you to realize that she has come closer to you.

"I really mean it. You’re beautiful."

"Ona..."

If your heart could get out of your thorax cage, it would certainly do so now as it beats so hard. With your proximity, you can see all the peculiarities of her face, starting with the different shades of her freckles. Her eyes shines with a particular glow, which has nothing to do with the shade of fatigue that was there a few moments ago. This moment of delicious tension lasts a few seconds before you speak again, your voice barely higher than a murmur.

"Just kiss me"

That was all she was waiting for, gently breaking the last inches between you. Her lips are light on yours at first, like a touch of butterflies, before coming more present. They are soft, delicate, sweet, perfect. This kiss is even better than any you could imagine during your moments of dreaming.

Ona’s hand gently leaves your cheek to slide onto your neck, causing shivers in every place she touches.

You briefly resume breathing, before initiating a second kiss. You gently tilt your head to the side to have a better access and you can not retain a slight moan when you feels her tongue caress your lower lip, asking access to yours. You accept, of course. And this time you feel completely attracted and overwhelmed by the mixture of feelings and sensations.

When you regain consciousness, well helped by the burning of your lungs that remind you that they need oxygen, you are literally lying on Ona, herself lying too on the couch. She has one hand on your neck and the other on your back, while yours are positioned on her waist.

"Well, this is interesting" comments Ona with a mischievous smile.

You blush and try to back off, but the hands of the Latina gently prevent you.

"No... Stay, please" she whispers softly, drawing you back against her.

You willingly accept, placing your face in the hollow of her neck. You smile against her skin when you feel her kiss on the top of your head and you tilt your head to have a better angle for looking at her. She smirks at you and you lean to kiss her jaw, her cheeks and every part of her beautiful face.

Some weeks after becoming official to your friends, Ona had to fly to Spain for a preparation camp for the national team. Your apartment seems empty without your girlfriend because even if you don't live together, you spend almost all your evenings with each other. When you have to study for university, Ona settles down next to you and watches a series on TV, taking advantage of Netflix to perfect her English with Spanish subtitles. Sometimes she falls asleep, waiting patiently for you to finish your work. Her adaptation to Manchester is getting better and better, even though she recently confess that she missed her native country a lot.

Being in exam period, you couldn't follow her and this is the first time you are separated for so long. So you wait patiently for her to call you, you can usually talk to each other through FaceTime in the evening and sometimes she call you at her lunch break. When she can't, you exchange messages. Ona sharing a room with one of her teammates, a certain Laia who apparently plays in Manchester City, you made the decision not to fall asleep by letting your FaceTime on. So you often end your nights exchanging messages, until one of you ends up falling asleep.

That’s what you’re doing now. Lying under your duvet on your side, you're already talking to Ona since 30 minutes.

You - Do you want to play a game?

Onita ♥ - What kind of game? You know I'm not alone in my room :-P Onita ♥ - I'm joking, what is it?

You smile, rolling your eyes. The way Ona seems always scared of hurting you or making you believe things she find strange is really cute. You already told her that you're not made of glass, but it's seems like it's stronger than her.

You - I have 12 questions to ask you and you have to answer the most sincerly possible

Onita ♥ - Seems fun. Go on Hermosa.

You - 1) If someone asks you what I am to you, what would you say?

Onita ♥ - That you are the most perfect girl in the world and that by an incredible luck you decided to be mine.

You - 2) What are three things you love about me?

Onita ♥ - Your kindness, how cute you look when you are focused when you're studying, your face.

You - 3) What makes me different of your past lover/s?

Onita ♥ - Well... Everything?

You - 4) What you dislike about me?

Onita ♥ - How far away you are from me right now :(

You - 5) What your favorite thing about me?

Onita ♥ - The way you show how you care about me

You - 6) What was your first impression about me?

Onita ♥ - I wondered why a gorgeous girl like you was alone and when we talked I found you kind, sweet and funny.

You - 7) What are three things I say a lot?

Onita ♥ - Oh man, My back hurt, You're beautiful

You - 8) What is one thing you hope for our future?

Onita ♥ - I really want us to continue to get along as well as we do now

You - 9) If we where together now, what would we be doing?

Onita ♥ - Probably cuddling while watching a movie. And I would kiss you on every inch on your face to distract you from :)

You - 10) What would you be doing right now if we never met?

Onita ♥ - Sleeping (This question is sad btw)

You - Sorry baby ♥ You - 11) How was your life before we got together?

Onita ♥ - I can't say it wasn't good because I would be lying, but you really made it better

You - 12) Will I forever hold a special place in your heart?

Onita ♥ - You always will ♥

You - Thanks baby ♥ You - I can't wait for you to coming home :(

Onita ♥ - Me too. Will you be free the day I'm coming back?

You - Won't you be tired?

Onita ♥ - Claro, but I want to see you. I really miss you a lot...

You - I'll be there :)

In fact, you even decided to pick up Ona at the airport. Your girlfriend introduced you to some of her teammates during one of your FaceTime, apparently they were curious to see the girl who Ona never shut about. You actually met Laia, Leila, Alexia, Jenni and Mapi this way. But thanks to this you could ask one of them to play the spies and give you the landing time of Ona’s plane. You wanted to surprise her, so it would be strange to ask her anyway.

Waiting with other people in the arrival area, you suddenly felt nervous. What if Ona actually preferred to take the time to shower and relax a bit before meeting you? You began to take a hundred steps, mechanically taking your phone out of the pocket when it will ring to announce the arrival of a message. It's from Ona who announces you that she has landed well and that she is about to take her suitcase.

A few long minutes later you finally see her pass the security doors, pulling behind her not one but two suitcases. The way she scans the room on the way out, you feel like she feels you before she even sees you. And, when your eyes finally meet, you feel like you’re in a movie for teenagers. The rest of the world vanishes around you as she runs towards you and jumps into your arms. Having the impression of finally being able to breathe completely again, you press her against you, smiling and feeling her buried her face in the hollow of your neck.

"I missed you so much" she whispers on your skin before placing her lips on yours.

You smile during the kiss, passing your arms around her waist to squeeze her more against you, making her fly a few centimeters above the ground.

It makes her laugh and ends your kiss, but you can’t blame her. You lay a kiss on her cheek as she gently turns in your arms to look behind her and you only realize at this moment that she's accompanied by Laia. She has recovered the suitcases that your girlfriend abandoned and is waiting patiently for the end of your reunion, a smile displayed on her face.

"Holà" she smiles, arching an amused eyebrow.

You greet her in return while Ona redo the presentations before informing you that they had imagined sharing a taxi. It's obviously out of the question for you to let Laia return alone and you immediately propose to drop her at home. You borrowed your brother’s car, as much as it serves the maximum.

"Didn't you leave with a single suitcase?" you question your girlfriend as you walk into the parking lot.

"Yes. But my mother gave me enough to fill my cupboards for the next three years. The good news is that you will be able to taste real Spanish specialties."

"Are you ok?"

Hearing your girlfriend's voice, you turn your face in her direction. You were watching the earth getting closer and closer, announcing that your landing was coming soon. Your fingers were beating nervously on your knee and your teeth were biting your lower lip so hard that Ona was really beginning to fear that it would eventually tear open.

"I’m a little nervous" you confess by quickly turning your gaze away.

That’s an understatement. You’re supposed to meet Ona’s family today and you’re so stressed out that you’re nauseous. Ona has already met your own family, she had anyway crossed them at the birthday of Alessia’s brother. But on your side you only met his big brother when he made the trip during a game to see his little sister play. The current has gone rather well, even if the latter seems rather to be the shy kind.

"You look like you’re going to throw up" Ona comment, arching an eyebrow.

"It's a possibility"

Ona smiles and gently shakes her head. Even if she finds your state of stress touching, she has the good idea not to emphasize it. Instead, she gently turns your face in her direction and places a tender kiss on your lips.

"Better?"

You smile softly, feeling the usual butterflies dancing in the hollow of your belly. That this feeling persists after several months together is a daily source of good surprise and joy.

"Mmh… Not really"

You try to mask your smile, in vain. However, Ona quickly understands what you want and lays a second, then a third kiss, each a little longer than the one before. Soon after, she backs down but places her forehead against yours, stroking your cheek with her thumb.

"You have nothing to fear, I know they will love you."

"What if they don't?"

"There is no risk"

"If they don’t like me, Ona, what do we do?"

Ona seems confident and it reassures you as much as it worries you even more. She is so convinced that she feels no emotion other than a joy to find her parents, her Spanish friends and the places where she grew up. But your question is deep, if things go wrong with her parents, will it lead your couple to a possible end? The idea terrifies you.

"If for some reason they don’t like you, I’ll change their minds. But trust me, there’s no reason why that would happend. Plus, Joan said you're really sweat."

You nod gently as the wheels of the plane touch the ground. Ona lays another kiss on your temple before focusing on what the stewardesses say. They speak Spanish but despite the intensive classes given by your girlfriend, you have trouble understanding what they say. They speak a little too fast and don't necessarily bother to articulate correctly.

After picking up your luggage, Ona takes you to the taxis. She seems to know the place like the back of her hand and you find it interesting to see her evolve in her world. You have already noticed that the timbre of her voice changes when she speaks in her native language and for some reason you find it very sexy. Perhaps because she tends to use Spanish during some of your intimate moments.

You listen carefully when she tells you of memories she has of places you pass through, a tender smile on her face. Stress made you forget that it was a way to get to know your girlfriend better and this realization hits you hard.

Ona’s entry into your life has changed a lot of things, but you must admit that you are also much more tactile with her than what you could have been with your former conquests. It’s kind of like she contaminated you and since she doesn’t seem to be bothered by this behavior, you stopped wondering if you were allowed to be. Then, after a new explanation from her, you lean over her to depose a tender kiss on her cheek, making her smile. And you’re back to vanilla ice cream in the sun state.

The journey takes a little less than an hour, you arrived at rush hour and there are a lot of traffic jams. It seemed to you that the taxi driver recognized Ona but has nothing else let appear than a big smile. But you end up arriving at your destination and you feel your heart start beating too fast and too hard when the taxi stops.

You barely have time to get your luggage out of the trunk of the vehicle and take a few steps into the driveway of the house as the front door opens. Ona’s Mother hurries to join her daughter, probably failing to suffocate her by hugging her. But Ona laughs and you see behind them Ona’s father, looking at his wife with a mixture of fun and tenderness.

"Oi déjala respirar (Let her breath)" he says, hugging his daughter at least as hard as her mom.

Ona’s mother’s attention is on you right after and you smile timidly at her. Now is the moment of truth. Over her father’s shoulder, Ona addresses her mother.

"Mamá, te presento a Y/N (Mum, this is Y/N)"

You open your mouth to say something, but before you can you find yourself in a maternal embrace that surprises you. It takes you a few seconds to answer it, but if it amuses your girlfriend, your mother-in-law doesn’t seem to take offense at it for a second. Then she steps back and looks at you a few seconds before declaring

"Esta niña necesita una buena comida española (This little one needs a good Spanish meal)"

After eating for like twelve people, Ona take you to her childhood room, where you will both sleep during your holidays. She seems a little shy at the idea of you entering her room and you can't stop yourself to teasing her a little.

"What are you afraid of?" you smile, your hand on the doorknob. "You have a big secret hidden here? A3 photos of one of your ex maybe?"

"None of them. It’s just I never brought one of my girlfriends home, let alone my room."

Her confession surprises you and you immediately feel guilty for having teased her on the subject. Feeling stupid, you gently bite your lip looking at it.

"I'm sorry"

"Don’t be, idiota" smiled Ona, before signaling you to enter the room.

More carefully than an archaeologist entering a pyramid, you gently open the door to reveal Ona’s bedroom. The front door immediately opens onto the large window, giving itself the sea view. A double bed is on the left with a multitude of photos hanging above. A bedside table frames each side of the bed and at the level of the cushions there are several soft toys that seem to date from the childhood of the Spanish. Facing the bed is a desk and a TV, as well as one opening in the wall, giving access to what you imagine to be a dressing room. The whole is in sand and sky blue colors, reminder of the good Spanish weather.

"I love it" you smile, looking around you.

"Yeah?"

You hums, looking at the picture above Ona's bed. You can find pictures of Ona with her friends, her parents, brother, cousins, her on the beach and some of her childhood. Lost in your contemplation, you don't hear when Ona approach you but smile while feeling her arms pass around your waist. You’re a few inches taller than her, but that doesn’t stop her from pressing her chin on your shoulder.

"Te amo" she whispers before placing a kiss in the hollow of your neck.

"I love you even more" you answer her before you turn in her arms to pass her arms around.

"And I think my parents love you very much too"

"Do you think?"

Ona confirms her impression and you lean over to place a kiss on her lips. It’s a great relief for you, but in a few weeks Ona will surely tease you by telling you that she told you so. But you are so relieved that you already know that you will endure her jokes without the slightest difficulty.

"Do you want to go to the beach?" your girlfriend asks.

You accept happily and long story short, her wall will be decorated with new photos of you two this summer.

Whenever you had the opportunity, you went to Ona’s games. This makes you a regular at the stadium and you start to know most of the staff in addition to your girlfriend’s teammates. Some new players arrived last summer but were apparently quickly integrated into the team. Now that you’ve graduated and have a steady job, it’s also easier for you to follow Ona on the weekends when she has matches elsewhere in England. You usually move the same day of the game, the team being hosted in a hotel there are logically no places for you. You don’t like those nights away from Ona, to be honest. You are so often at her home that your apartment receives your visit only when Ona is far away and you couldn't follow her.

You can’t lie about not being afraid for your girlfriend. Even though she’s a badass who gets up almost all the time after tough tackles, there have been several times when you’ve almost faint. You remember perfectly the match of Ona against Arsenal during which she suffered several tackles rather rough and where she received a blow on the nose which makes her bleed.

Today, against Brighton, nothing could let you imagine that something special would happen. The game was quite pleasant to watch and there were only a few minutes left before the end of the game. It's at the 86th minute that the collision between Ona and the opposing player takes place and the moment you don't see her getting up, you know that something is wrong.

Despite her teammates at her side and the medical staff, your girlfriend takes long minutes before even sitting down. Unfortunately far from the place of the ground where she is, you cannot hear or even see what is being said. And the anguish you feel makes your whole body throb. Eventually, Ona got up to get out of the field and was probably about to return to play. Desperately trying to cross her eyes, it ends up happening and the Latin girl sends you a small comforting smile. It relieves you a bit, but you still feel that everything is not going as well as she would like to let it seem. It would not surprise you, the Spanish already told you that she didn't like to worry people around her.

And you’re right, since after a few minutes of play, Ona sits on the field, not feeling able to play. She's obviously out of the game, but you’re not allowed to follow her, unfortunately. Or at least not right away. Your brother, always with you, has placed a reassuring arm around your shoulders but this doesn't allow your heart rate to decrease.

It’s only some minutes later that you repent Mark Skinner, the coach, walking down the stairs of the family space to take you with him in the halls of the stadium. He takes you to the infirmary, where you finally find the one that makes your heart beat. Ona is lying on a bed, still dressed in her football outfit and boots. Her face is clenched, her hand on her eyes and she takes it off only when she hears the door of the room open.

"Hi sweatheart" you mumble softly.

She sends you a new little smile as you approach her, Mark having gently closed the door behind you. Not knowing if you can touch her, you decide to sit on the plastic chair next to her bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Stunned"

You pout and gently place your hand on hers, squeezing it briefly.

"Have the doctors come to you yet?"

"Yes. They think I have a concussion"

That would explain a lot of things. From where you were positioned in the stadium, the shock did not seem so strong to you, but you apparently underestimated the thing. And you feel bad for it.

The door opens again, revealing a nurse and Ella Toone. The english girl carries Ona’s belongings and informs you that she has packed everything without having forgotten anything normally. You take advantage that the nurse looks at Ona to take a look at your phone and finds that you received messages from Ona’s brother and parents, asking you about their daughter or sister. You imagine that they had to write to Ona and then turn to you realizing that they didn't receive an answer. You can’t imagine what it must be like for them to be so far away from her, without knowing how she is. The idea makes you shiver.

You hurry to answer them while the nurse makes the last tests on Ona to make sure you haven’t missed anything.

"Who are you writing to?" asks Ona frowning.

"Joan and your mother"

She nods and you decide to take her boots off and to put her sneakers. You then help her put on a sweater and jacket, deciding together that she will shower at home. With the prescription and medication in hand, you can go home, much to your relief. Ona willingly lets herself be guided to your car, your arm around her waist and this allows you to realize how much she shouldn't feel good. Even if she's tactile, your girlfriend has a strong stubborn and autonomous side.

After a quick shower, you lay Ona down in bed, dressed in one of your sweatshirts. She seems tired, but not surprising given the situation. She took advantage of the drive to phone her parents and reassure them about her condition, Ella having been responsible for keeping the rest of the team informed.

Leaving her side for a few moments, you search the kitchen to make her a tea and bring her something sweet to eat.

"What do you need?" you ask her, looking at her carefully.

"Cuddle" she pouts and you can’t help but smile.

"Give me time to change too and I’ll be right there. In the meantime, take your medicine and eat something pretty girl."

You point to the tray that you placed next to her on the bed and even if she makes the grimace, Ona seizes her medication. You go to the bathroom to refresh yourself and put on clean clothes. In fact, you opt for jogging pants and a loose t-shirt to feel comfortable. After that, you go back to Ona and lie next to her. Ona doesn't lose a second before coming to cuddle in your arms and you gently caress her back with your fingertips.

You get lost in your thoughts, the only noises that can be heard are your two breaths and the noise of the cars that pass at the foot of the building from time to time.

"You scared me today"

Your voice is barely higher than a whisper, but in the calm of the apartment it seems to resonate quite loud. The nurse warned you to avoid too much sound or visual stimulation for Ona at the moment and you intend to stick to it. She comes up a little on you, so she can put her face in the hollow of your neck.

"I'm sorry" A few seconds pass before the brunette speaks again. "You stay the night?"

You snort and roll your eyes.

"Of course. As if I were going to leave you alone here under these circumstances. I wouldn’t want your mother to deprive me of her fidéua."

Ona giggles but you also notice that she begins to fall asleep. Deciding to let her rest, you add nothing, continuing to gently caress her back and hair.

"Sleep babygirl. I’m here to look after you."

Always.

[ohgaylor]

In 2006, the year Taylor Swift released her first single, a closeted country singer named Chely Wright, then 35, held a 9-millimeter pistol to her mouth. Queer identity was still taboo enough in mainstream America that speaking about her love for another woman would have spelled the end of a country music career. But in suppressing her identity, Ms. Wright had risked her life.

In 2010, she came out to the public, releasing a confessional memoir, “Like Me,” in which she wrote that country music was characterized by culturally enforced closeting, where queer stars would be seen as unworthy of investment unless they lied about their lives. “Country music,” she wrote, “is like the military — don’t ask, don’t tell.”

The culture in which Ms. Wright picked up that gun — the same one in which Ms. Swift first became a star — was stunningly different from today’s. It’s dizzying to think about the strides that have been made in Americans’ acceptance of the L.G.B.T.Q. community over the past decade: marriage equality, queer themes dominating teen entertainment, anti-discrimination laws in housing and, for now, in the workplace. But in recent years, a steady drip of now-out stars — Cara Delevingne, Colton Haynes, Elliot Page, Kristen Stewart, Raven-Symoné and Sam Smith among them — have disclosed that they had been encouraged to suppress their queerness in order to market projects or remain bankable.

The culture of country music hasn’t changed so much that homophobia is gone. Just this past summer, Adam Mac, an openly gay country artist, was shamed out of playing at a festival in his hometown because of his sexual orientation. In September, the singer Maren Morris stepped away from country music; she said she did so in part because of the industry’s lingering anti-queerness. If country music hasn’t changed enough, what’s to say that the larger entertainment industry — and, by extension, our broader culture — has?

Periodically, I return to a video, recorded by a shaky hand more than a decade ago, of Ms. Wright answering questions at a Borders bookstore about her coming out. She likens closeted stardom to a blender, an “insane” and “inhumane” heteronormative machine in which queer artists are chewed to bits.

“It’s going to keep going,” Ms. Wright says, “until someone who has something to lose stands up and just says ‘I’m gay.’ Somebody big.” She continues: “We need our heroes.”

What if someone had already tried, at least once, to change the culture by becoming such a hero? What if, because our culture had yet to come to terms with homophobia, it wasn’t ready for her?

What if that hero’s name was Taylor Alison Swift?

In the world of Taylor Swift, the start of a new “era” means the release of new art (an album and the paratexts — music videos, promotional ephemera, narratives — that supplement it) and a wholesale remaking of the aesthetics that will accompany its promotion, release and memorializing. In recent years, Ms. Swift has dominated pop culture to such a degree that these transformations often end up altering American culture in the process.

In 2019, she was set to release a new album, “Lover,” the first since she left Big Machine Records, her old Nashville-based label, which she has since said limited her creative freedom. The aesthetic of what would be known as the “Lover Era” emerged as rainbows, butterflies and pastel shades of blue, purple and pink, colors that subtly evoke the bisexual pride flag.

On April 26, Lesbian Visibility Day, Ms. Swift released the album’s lead single, “ME!,” in which she sings about self-love and self-acceptance. She co-directed a campy music video to accompany it, which she would later describe as depicting “everything that makes me, me.” It features Ms. Swift dancing at a pride parade, dripping in rainbow paint and turning down a man’s marriage proposal in exchange for a … pussy cat.

At the end of June, the L.G.B.T.Q. community would celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots. On June 14, Ms. Swift released the video for her attempt at a pride anthem, “You Need to Calm Down,” in which she and an army of queer celebrities from across generations — the “Queer Eye” hosts, Ellen DeGeneres, Billy Porter, Hayley Kiyoko, to name a few — resist homophobia by living openly. Ms. Swift sings that outrage against queer visibility is a waste of time and energy: “Why are you mad, when you could be GLAAD?”

The video ends with a plea: “Let’s show our pride by demanding that, on a national level, our laws truly treat all of our citizens equally.” Many, in the press and otherwise, saw the video as, at best, a misguided attempt at allyship and, at worst, a straight woman co-opting queer aesthetics and narratives to promote a commercial product.

Then, Ms. Swift performed “Shake It Off” as a surprise for patrons at the Stonewall Inn. Rumors — that were, perhaps, little more than fantasies — swirled in the queerer corners of her fandom, stoked by a suggestive post by the fashion designer Christian Siriano. Would Ms. Swift attend New York City’s WorldPride march on June 30? Would she wear a dress spun from a rainbow? Would she give a speech? If she did, what would she declare about herself?

The Sunday of the march, those fantasies stopped. She announced that the music executive Scooter Braun, who she described as an “incessant, manipulative” bully, had purchased her masters, the lucrative original recordings of her work.

Ms. Swift’s “Lover” was the first record that she created with nearly unchecked creative freedom. Lacking her old label’s constraints, she specifically chose to feature activism for and the aesthetics of the L.G.B.T.Q. community in her confessional, self-expressive art. Even before the sale of her masters, she appeared to be stepping into a new identity — not just an aesthetic — that was distinct from that associated with her past six albums.

When looking back on the artifacts of the months before that album’s release, any close reader of Ms. Swift has a choice. We can consider the album’s aesthetics and activism as performative allyship, as they were largely considered to be at the time. Or we can ask a question, knowing full well that we may never learn the answer: What if the “Lover Era” was merely Ms. Swift’s attempt to douse her work — and herself — in rainbows, as so many baby queers feel compelled to do as they come out to the world?

There’s no way of knowing what could have happened if Ms. Swift’s masters hadn’t been sold. All we know is what happened next. In early August, Ms. Swift posted a rainbow-glazed photo of a series of friendship bracelets, one of which says “PROUD” with beads in the color of the bisexual pride flag. Queer people recognize that this word, deployed this way, typically means that someone is proud of their own identity. But the public did not widely view this as Ms. Swift’s coming out.

Then, Vogue released an interview with Ms. Swift that had been conducted in early June. When discussing her motivations for releasing “You Need to Calm Down,” Ms. Swift said, “Rights are being stripped from basically everyone who isn’t a straight white cisgender male.” She continued: “I didn’t realize until recently that I could advocate for a community that I’m not a part of.” That statement suggests that Ms. Swift did not, in early June, consider herself part of the L.G.B.T.Q. community; it does not illuminate whether that is because she was a straight, cis ally or because she was stuck in the shadowy, solitary recesses of the closet.

On Aug. 22, Ms. Swift publicly committed herself to the as-of-then-unproven project of rerecording and rereleasing her first six albums. The next day, she finally released “Lover,” which raises more questions than it answers. Why does she have to keep secrets just to keep her muse, as all her fans still sing-scream on “Cruel Summer”? About what are the “hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you,” in her chronicle of self-doubt, “The Archer,” if not her identity? And what could the album’s closing words, which come at the conclusion of “Daylight,” a song about stepping out of a 20-year darkness and choosing to “let it go,” possibly signal?

I want to be defined by the things that I love,

Not the things I hate,

Not the things that I’m afraid of, I’m afraid of,

Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night,

I just think that,

You are what you love.

The first time I viewed “Lover” through the prism of queerness, I felt delirious, almost insane. I kept wondering whether what I was perceiving in her work was truly there or if it was merely a mirage, born of earnest projection.

My longtime reading of Ms. Swift’s celebrity — like that of a majority of her fan base — had been stuck in the lingering assumptions left by a period that began more than a decade and a half ago, when a girl with an overexaggerated twang, Shirley Temple curls and Georgia stars in her eyes became famous. Then, she presented as all that was to be expected of a young starlet: attractive yet virginal, knowing yet naïve, not talented enough to be formidable, not commanding enough to be threatening, confessional, eager to please. Her songs earnestly depicted the fantasies of a girl raised in a traditional culture: high school crushes and backwoods drives, princelings and wedding rings, declarations of love that climax only in a kiss — ideally in the pouring rain.

When Ms. Swift was trying to sell albums in that late-2000s media environment, her songwriting didn’t match the image of a sex object, the usual role reserved for female celebrities in our culture. Instead, the story the public told about her was that she laundered her affection to a litter of promising grown men, in exchange for songwriting inspiration. A young Ms. Swift contributed to this narrative by hiding easy-to-decode clues in liner notes that suggested a certain someone was her songs’ inspiration (“SAM SAM SAM SAM SAM SAM,” “ADAM,” “TAY”) or calling out an ex-boyfriend on the “Ellen” show and “Saturday Night Live.” Despite the expansive storytelling in Ms. Swift’s early records, her public image often cast a man’s interest as her greatest ambition.

As Ms. Swift’s career progressed, she began to remake that image: changing her style and presentation, leaving country music for pop and moving from Nashville to New York. By 2019, her celebrity no longer reflected traditional culture; it had instead become a girlboss-y mirror for another dominant culture — that of white, cosmopolitan, neoliberal America.

But in every incarnation, the public has largely seen those songs — especially those for which she doesn’t directly state her inspiration — as cantos about her most recent heterosexual love, whether that idea is substantiated by evidence or not. A large portion of her base still relishes debating what might have happened with the gentleman caller who supposedly inspired her latest album. Feverish discussions of her escapades with the latest yassified London Boy or mustachioed Mr. Americana fuel the tabloid press — and, embarrassingly, much of traditional media — that courts fan engagement by relentlessly, unquestioningly chronicling Ms. Swift’s love life.

Even in 2023, public discussion about the romantic entanglements of Ms. Swift, 34, presumes that the right man will “finally” mean the end of her persistent husbandlessness and childlessness. Whatever you make of Ms. Swift’s extracurricular activities involving a certain football star (romance for the ages? strategic brand partnership? performance art for entertainment’s sake?), the public’s obsession with the relationship has been attention-grabbing, if not lucrative, for all parties, while reinforcing a story that America has long loved to tell about Ms. Swift, and by extension, itself.

Because Ms. Swift hasn’t undeniably subverted our culture’s traditional expectations, she has managed, in an increasingly fractured cultural environment, to simultaneously capture two dominant cultures — traditional and cosmopolitan. To maintain the stranglehold she has on pop culture, Ms. Swift must continue to tell a story that those audiences expect to consume; she falls in love with a man or she gets revenge. As a result, her confessional songs languish in a place of presumed stasis; even as their meaning has grown deeper and their craft more intricate, a substantial portion of her audience’s understanding of them remains wedded to the same old narratives.

But if interpretations of Ms. Swift’s art often languish in stasis, so do the millions upon millions of people who love to play with the dollhouse she has constructed for them. Her dominance in pop culture and the success of her business have given her the rare ability to influence not only her industry but also the worldview of a substantial portion of America. How might her industry, our culture and we, ourselves, change if we made space for Ms. Swift to burn that dollhouse to the ground?

Anyone considering the whole of Ms. Swift’s artistry — the way that her brilliantly calculated celebrity mixes with her soul-baring art — can find discrepancies between the story that underpins her celebrity and the one captured by her songs. One such gap can be found in her “Lover” era. Others appear alongside “dropped hairpins,” or the covert ways someone can signal queer identity to those in the know while leaving others comfortable in their ignorance. Ms. Swift dropped hairpins before “Lover” and has continued to do so since.

Sometimes, Ms. Swift communicates through explicit sartorial choices — hair the colors of the bisexual pride flag or a recurring motif of rainbow dresses. She frequently depicts herself as trapped in glass closets or, well, in regular closets. She drops hairpins on tour as well, paying tribute to the Serpentine Dance of the lesbian artist Loie Fuller during the Reputation Tour or referencing “The Ladder,” one of the earliest lesbian publications in the United States, in her Eras Tour visuals.

During the Eras Tour, Ms. Swift traps her past selves — including those from her “Lover” era — in glass closets.

Dropped hairpins also appear in Ms. Swift’s songwriting. Sometimes, the description of a muse — the subject of her song, or to whom she sings — seems to fit only a woman, as it does in “It’s Nice to Have a Friend,” “Maroon” or “Hits Different.” Sometimes she suggests a female muse through unfulfilled rhyme schemes, as she does in “The Very First Night,” when she sings “didn’t read the note on the Polaroid picture / they don’t know how much I miss you” (“her,” instead of that pesky little “you,” would rhyme). Her songwriting also noticeably alludes to poets whose muses the historical record incorrectly cast as men — Emily Dickinson chief among them — as if to suggest the same fate awaits her art. Stunningly, she even explicitly refers to dropping hairpins, not once, but twice, on two separate albums.

In isolation, a single dropped hairpin is perhaps meaningless or accidental, but considered together, they’re the unfurling of a ballerina bun after a long performance. Those dropped hairpins began to appear in Ms. Swift’s artistry long before queer identity was undeniably marketable to mainstream America. They suggest to queer people that she is one of us. They also suggest that her art may be far more complex than the eclipsing nature of her celebrity may allow, even now.

Since at least her “Lover” era, Ms. Swift has explicitly encouraged her fans to read into the coded messages (which she calls “Easter eggs”) she leaves in music videos, social media posts and interviews with traditional media outlets, but a majority of those fans largely ignore or discount the dropped hairpins that might hint at queer identity. For them, acknowledging even the possibility that Ms. Swift could be queer would irrevocably alter the way they connect with her celebrity, the true product they’re consuming.

There is such public devotion to the traditional narrative Ms. Swift embodies because American culture enshrines male power. In her sweeping essay, “Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence,” the lesbian feminist poet Adrienne Rich identified the way that male power cramps, hinders or devalues women’s creativity. All of the sexist undertones with which Ms. Swift’s work can be discussed (often, even, by fans) flow from compulsory heterosexuality, or the way patriarchy draws power from the presumption that women naturally desire men. She must write about men she surely loves or be unbankable; she must marry and bear children or remain a child herself; she must look like, in her words, a “sexy baby” or be undesirable, “a monster on the hill.”

A woman who loves women is most certainly a monster to a society that prizes male power. She can fulfill none of the functions that a traditional culture imagines — wife, mother, maid, mistress, whore — so she has few places in the historical record. The Sapphic possibility of her work is ignored, censored or lost to time. If there is queerness earnestly implied in Ms. Swift’s work, then it’s no wonder that it, like that of so many other artists before her, is so often rendered invisible in the public imagination.

While Ms. Swift’s songs, largely written from her own perspective, cannot always conform to the idea of a woman our culture expects, her celebrity can. That separation, between Swift the songwriter and Swift the star, allows Ms. Swift to press against the golden birdcage in which she has found herself. She can write about women’s complexity in her confessional songs, but if ever she chooses not to publicly comply with the dominant culture’s fantasy, she will remain uncategorizable, and therefore, unsellable.

Her star — as bright as it is now — would surely dim.

Whether she is conscious of it or not, Ms. Swift signals to queer people — in the language we use to communicate with one another — that she has some affinity for queer identity. There are some queer people who would say that through this sort of signaling, she has already come out, at least to us. But what about coming out in a language the rest of the public will understand?

The difference between any person coming out and a celebrity doing so is the difference between a toy mallet and a sledgehammer. It’s reasonable for celebrities to be reticent; by coming out, they potentially invite death threats, a dogged tabloid press that will track their lovers instead of their beards, the excavation of their past lives, a torrent of public criticism and the implosion of their careers. In a culture of compulsory heterosexuality, to stop lying — by omission or otherwise — is to risk everything.

American culture still expects that stars are cis and straight until they confess themselves guilty. So, when our culture imagines a celebrity’s coming out, it expects an Ellen-style announcement that will submerge the past life in phoenix fire and rebirth the celebrity in a new image. In an ideal culture, wearing a bracelet that says “PROUD,” waving a pride flag onstage, placing a rainbow in album artwork or suggestively answering fan questions on Instagram would be enough. But our current reality expects a supernova.

Because of that expectation, stars end up trapped behind glass, which is reinforced by the tabloid press’s subtle social control. That press shapes the public’s expectations of others’ identities, even when those identities are chasms away from reality. Celebrities who master this press environment — Ms. Swift included — can bolster their business, but in doing so, they reinforce a heteronormative culture that obsesses over pregnancy, women’s bodies and their relationships with men.

That environment is at odds with the American movement for L.G.B.T.Q. equality, which still has fights to win — most pressingly, enshrining trans rights and squashing nonsensical culture wars. But lately I’ve heard many of my young queer contemporaries — and the occasional star — wonder whether the movement has come far enough to dispense with the often messy, often uncomfortable process of coming out, over and over again.

That questioning speaks to an earnest conundrum that queer people confront regularly: Do we live in this world, or the world to which we ought to aspire?

Living in aspiration means ignoring the convention of coming out in favor of just … existing. This is easier for those who can pass as cis and straight if need be, those who are so wealthy or white that the burden of hiding falls to others and those who live in accepting urban enclaves. This is a queer life without friction; coming out in a way straight people can see is no longer a prerequisite for acceptance, fulfillment and equality.

This aspiration is tremendous, but in our current culture, it is available only to a privileged few. Should such an inequality of access to aspiration become the accepted state of affairs, it would leave those who can’t hide to face society’s cruelest actors without the backing of a vocal, activated community. So every queer person who takes issue with the idea that we must come out ought to ask a simple question — what do we owe one another?

If coming out is primarily supposed to be an act of self-actualization, to form our own identities, then we owe one another nothing. This posture recognizes that the act of coming out implicitly reinforces straight and cis identities as default, which is not worth the rewards of outness.

But if coming out is supposed to be a radical act of resistance that seeks to change the way our society imagines people to be, then undeniable visibility is essential to make space for those without power. In this posture, queer people who can live in aspiration owe those who cannot a real world in which our expansive views of love and gender aren’t merely tolerated but celebrated. We have no choice but to actively, vocally press against the world we’re in, until no one is stuck in it.

And so just for a little while longer, we need our heroes.

But if queer people spend all of our time holding out for a guiding light, we might forgo a more pressing question that if answered, just might inch all of us a bit closer to aspiration. The next time heroes appear, are we ready to receive them?

It takes neither a genius nor a radical to see queerness implied by Ms. Swift’s work. But figuring out how to talk about it before the star labels herself is another matter. Right now, those who do so must inject our perceptions with caveats and doubt or pretend we cannot see it (a lie!) — implicitly acquiescing to convention’s constraints in the name of solidarity.

Lying is familiar to queer people; we teach ourselves to do it from an early age, shrouding our identities from others, and ourselves. It’s not without good reason. To maintain the safety (and sometimes the comfort) of the closet, we lie to others, and, most crucially, we allow others to believe lies about us, seeing us as something other than ourselves. Lying is doubly familiar to those of us who are women. To reduce friction, so many of us still shrink life to its barest version in the name of honor or safety, rendering our lives incomplete, our minds lobotomized and our identities unexplored.

By maintaining a culture of lying about what we, uniquely, have the knowledge and experience to see, we commit ourselves to a vow of silence. That vow may protect someone’s safety, but when it is applied to works of culture, it stymies our ability to receive art that has the potential to change or disrupt us. As those with queer identity amass the power of commonplaceness, it’s worth questioning whether the purpose of one of the last great taboos that constrains us befits its cost.

In every case, is the best form of solidarity still silence?

I know that discussing the potential of a star’s queerness before a formal declaration of identity feels, to some, too salacious and gossip-fueled to be worthy of discussion. They might point to the viciousness of the discourse around “queerbaiting” (in which I have participated); to the harm caused by the tabloid press’s dalliances with outing; and, most crucially, to the real material sacrifices that queer stars make to come out, again and again, as reasons to stay silent.

I share many of these reservations. But the stories that dominate our collective imagination shape what our culture permits artists and their audiences to say and be. Every time an artist signals queerness and that transmission falls on deaf ears, that signal dies. Recognizing the possibility of queerness — while being conscious of the difference between possibility and certainty — keeps that signal alive.

So, whatever you make of Ms. Swift’s sexual orientation or gender identity (something that is knowable, perhaps, only to her) or the exact identity of her muses (something better left a mystery), choosing to acknowledge the Sapphic possibility of her work has the potential to cut an audience that is too often constrained by history, expectation and capital loose from the burdens of our culture.

To start, consider what Ms. Swift wrote in the liner notes of her 2017 album, “reputation”: “When this album comes out, gossip blogs will scour the lyrics for the men they can attribute to each song, as if the inspiration for music is as simple and basic as a paternity test.”

Listen to her. At the very least, resist the urge to assume that when Ms. Swift calls the object of her affection “you” in a song, she’s talking about a man with whom she’s been photographed. Just that simple choice opens up a world of Swiftian wordplay. She often plays with pronouns, trading “you” and “him” so that only someone looking for a distinction between two characters might find one. Turns of phrase often contain double or even triple meanings. Her work is a feast laid specifically for the close listener.

Choosing to read closely can also train the mind to resist the image of an unmarried woman that compulsory heterosexuality expects. And even if it is only her audience who points at rainbows, reading Ms. Swift’s work as queer is still worthwhile, for it undermines the assumption that queer identity impedes pop superstardom, paving the way for an out artist to have the success Ms. Swift has.

After all, would it truly be better to wait to talk about any of this for 50, 60, 70 years, until Ms. Swift whispers her life story to a biographer? Or for a century or more, when Ms. Swift’s grandniece donates her diaries to some academic library, for scholars to pore over? To ensure that mea culpas come only when Ms. Swift’s bones have turned to dust and fragments of her songs float away on memory’s summer breeze?

I think not. And so, I must say, as loudly as I can, “I can see you,” even if I risk foolishness for doing so.

I remember the first time I knew I had seen Taylor Alison Swift break free from the trap of stardom. I wasn’t sitting in a crowded stadium in the pouring rain or cuddled up in a movie theater with a bag of popcorn. I was watching a grainy, crackling livestream of the Eras Tour, captured on a fan’s phone.

It’s late at night, the beginning of her acoustic set of surprise songs, this time performed in a yellow dress. She begins playing “Hits Different.” It’s a new song, full of puns, double entendres and wordplay, that toys with the glittering identities in which Ms. Swift indulges.

She’s rushing, as if stopping, even for a second, will cause her to lose her nerve. She stumbles at the bridge, pauses and starts again; the queen of bridges will not mess this up, not tonight.

There it is, at the bridge’s end: “Bet I could still melt your world; argumentative, antithetical dream girl.” An undeniable declaration of love to a woman. As soon as those words leave her lips, she lets out a whoop, pacing around the stage with a grin that cannot be contained.

For a moment, Ms. Swift was out of the woods she had created for herself as a teenager, floating above the trees. The future was within reach; she would, and will, soon take back the rest of her words, her reputation, her name. Maybe the world would see her, maybe it wouldn’t.

But on that stage, she found herself. I was there. Through a fuzzy fancam, I saw it.

And somehow, that was everything.

[apomaro-mellow]

Demon!Eddie 1

Steve woke up to someone moving about the room. He wondered why someone was in his room before last night’s events caught up with him. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed, it never happened. Eventually he’d find himself in his own house with parents that were just disappointed in him, not psycho cultists.

“Rise and shine Sleeping Beauty. I slaved over a hot stove for your breakfast. Come and get it.”

With a groan, Steve finally opened his eyes. In the light of the morning, he saw that the walls of the bedroom were covered with posters of people he didn’t know. A gray t-shirt and some sweatpants had been placed next to him. Eddie was nowhere to be seen.

Steve closed the door before undressing. He checked his palms again. Any sign that he had been sliced was gone. But his shirt was still ripped and there was still dried blood on his stomach. God, maybe he should’ve taken that shower after all.

He put the new set of clothes on anyway and left the bedroom. It took about one and half steps to get to the kitchen, where Eddie was sitting with some cereal and milk.

“Slaved over a hot stove, huh?”

“I turned the stove on for the coffee”, Eddie said cheekily.

Steve was distracted from the quip by the large soup pot of black coffee sitting on the stove. This man might really be the devil.

“Soooo”, he sat down across from Eddie, trying to ignore the warning bells. “What’s next?”

“That’s all up to you, remember?” Eddie pushed and empty bowl towards him, along with the box of cereal. “So what does freedom look like to Steve Harrington?”

He thought about the choices his parents had given him before. For his room, blue or green. For his major, business or law. They had always told him it was his choice before giving a very limited set of options.

“I...don’t know. I’ve never had this much freedom before.”

“Well, let’s start with something simple. Cereal or milk first?”

Steve’s expression pinched. “In my bowl? Cereal first, duh.” He grabbed the box and began to pour it.

“Aah, but what if milk is the main event for me and I simply want a crunchy garnish on top?”, Eddie grinned.

“I’d like to assume you’re being sarcastic but after seeing the way you make coffee I’m just not sure.”

“What’s wrong with the way I make coffee?”

Steve looked again to the pot. He wasn’t even a big coffee drinker, but sometimes the way a person did things told you so much about them. “Who raised you?”

“Technically? Your little country club did. Been a while since someone used that summoning spell.”

“Is that how it normally goes?”, Steve asked. “You just show up, burn a few folks, and then make off with the sacrifice?”

Eddie tapped Steve’s bowl with his spoon. “Don’t let it get soggy. And to answer your question, it depends on the wish and what they give up for it.”

“They’ve been worshipping you for...years I guess. Why did you betray them?”

“Would you rather I have taken your soul and given them what they wanted?”, Eddie asked.

“I just...don’t understand everything that happened last night.”

“The spell they used that whole thing they were chanting, it doesn’t call upon a specific demon”, Eddie began to explain. “That incantation is like dialing 911. You’re kinda rolling the dice with whatever demon picks up. And for most folks’ sake, I try to be that guy.”

“So you just go around snatching up sacrifices and leaving people with an empty bag?”

“That’s a good way of spinning it!”, Eddie cackled.

“And you let them crash here?”

“Not often. Most of the time they’re just caught in a bad group or made a wrong turn. I just give em an escape route or help them back where they’re supposed to be.”

“So I’m the first person who’s such a loser I literally have no other place to go.”

“Loser is just another way to say someone’s got a not so lucky life. And hey, it wasn’t all bad before that point right? Lavish parties, nice house, people bowing to you in hallways.” Eddie was twirling his spoon between his fingers as he spoke.

“I’d trade that for a box in an alley if I knew...if I knew they were going to do that.” Steve’s brow furrowed as he stared into his bowl.

“You could still go back. Try and mend some things, follow in dear old dad’s footsteps”, Eddie suggested.

Steve scoffed and pushed the bowl away, crossing his arms. “If they didn’t want me then, they’re not gonna want me now. And I could never be like them.”

“So you’re not going into business. What then? Health, education, entertainment?”

“Well there’s no way they’re footing the bill for tuition, which means college is out, which means my options are limited.”

“Don’t be so sure. Your wish was for freedom. And I aim to keep my promises.”

“Unless you’ve got a bunch of jobs lined up willing to take on someone with zero experience-”

“That’s it!”, Eddie snapped his fingers and then stood up. “You want experience so you can make a decision. Take a shower, make a list and then we’ll get started.”

“Started with what?”

“Job hunting!” Eddie put his empty bowl in the sink and then went through a door Steve hadn’t noticed. “Be ready when I get back!”

He shut the door and then Steve was left alone. He wasn’t any less confused than he was before. But he managed to find the bathroom, wash himself up which did make him feel much better. He found a pad of sticky notes and a marker and started to write down some jobs.

He started with the kind of jobs he had when he played pretend as a kid. Policeman, doctor, zookeeper, firefighter, astronaut. Then he started thinking about careers he had a passing fancy in as he got older. Baker, writer, teacher, military.

When Eddie came through the door again, he had a wild smile on his face and Steve had a completed list.

“Let’s have a looksie”, he said, snatching it from Steve’s hand. He gave a whistle at the various jobs. “Hope you had your coffee.”

“Yeah, I’ll pass. What’re we doing with this list anyway?”

“Steve....have you ever heard of roleplay?”

The redness in Steve’s cheeks were immediate as he looked Eddie up and down and suddenly remembered the feeling of his tongue. 

“You...y-you mean where like people dress up and they um, they-”

“That’s right.” Then Eddie opened that mysterious door and Steve found himself in the middle of a precinct. “They play pretend!”, Eddie finished.

Steve looked down at himself and saw an officer’s uniform.

“You’re gonna live a day in the life until you figure out whatchu wanna do”, Eddie beamed, giving him a nudge with his shoulder.

Steve heard a clinking and saw that Eddie was handcuffed. Today was going to be a ride.

Part 3

Tag Team:

@michael-the-angelo @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas

@estrellami-1 @weirdandabsurd42 @lololol-1234

@chaoticvictorianspirit @giopandaonice @marklee-blackmore

@blackpanzy @kacatshi

[madaqueue]

Dripping in Gold | Chapter 1

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, angst, light smut. alcohol mention, masturbation (f). 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.6k

a/n: IT'S HERE AHHHH hope y'all like this one :)

series masterlist | next chapter

God, I need to get a job.

The afternoon sun filters in through the blinds as you scroll through your phone, trying to distract yourself from the reality of your future. You graduated college months ago and still have no idea what you want to do or how to do it. Application after application, shitty interview after shitty interview, and you’re still no further into the career that’s supposed to be the rest of your life.

Sighing, you prop yourself up on your elbows in bed to take in the space around you - clothes were strewn across the floor of your studio apartment, dirty dishes piled in the sink, empty takeout containers from restaurants you certainly couldn’t afford to be eating at. It was all just too much.

Eh, I’ll get around to it, you think, laying back into the pillows and returning to your phone. You navigate to check your bank account, just to see the damage that months of unemployment have done.

“Balance: $68.06”

Shit. That’s not even enough to make rent this month, and even if you did have a job lined up you’ve already asked your landlord for one extension on your payments and he did not seem very open to the prospect of doing it again.

Trying to shut out the thought of possibly losing your apartment, you move over to Instagram to quiet the dread building inside of you. Scrolling through posts of your friends on yachts, traveling the country, eating expensive dinners with expensive-looking people, you only feel like more of a failure.

How are they able to do it? I mean, sure, they at least have jobs, but none of them pay well enough to do this, right?

You hover over one of your friend’s pictures, trying to recognize the incredibly well-dressed, albeit much older, man she’s seated across from. As you zoom in, it suddenly clicks - her new jewelry, the expensive bottle of champagne, fresh nails, styled hair - and you remember your conversation with her the last time you saw each other.

You were both out at a bar and she kept buying rounds of shots for you and all your friends.

“Dude, not to be a total dick, but how are you able to afford all this?” you shout over the music blasting through the speakers.

“Oh m’god, you aren’t gonna believe it” she slurs slightly, “there’s this app where rich guys pay you to just go on dates with ‘em, I jus’ gotta keep lookin’ pretty and they pay me so much.”

“Don’t you have to, like, fuck them though?” you ask, curiously raising an eyebrow.

“Only if y’wanna! You’re not really supposed to, but they pay you a lot more!” she grins.

At the time you pushed the conversation to the back of your mind and promptly forgot about it after a few more drinks, but now the realization crashes over you.

No, there’s no way. You try to shake the idea out of your mind - were you seriously considering getting a sugar daddy before getting a job?

She did make it sound pretty easy though…and I mean, it’s just dates, right?

You hesitantly pull out your laptop to search for the website she had mentioned. There’s no harm in just checking it out, you try to rationalize. Before you know it, you’ve set up a profile and have picked out a few pictures of yourself that make you look particularly hot - you out at a bar, you on the beach, you with your friends.

After you finalize your profile, the screen suddenly fills with pictures of, frankly, less-than-attractive older men. You roll your eyes and scoff at your own stupidity for even considering this idea, starting to shut your laptop before something catches your eye in the corner of the screen.

Bright white hair and piercing blue eyes look back at you through the computer. Holy shit, he’s hot, you think as you move your mouse to click on his profile.

Bio: “My name’s Gojo, but you can call me yours 🥰 23, casual only”

Okay, so he’s hot, rich, and practically the same age as you? You feel like you’ve struck gold. Besides, he only wants something casual, which is all you’re interested in anyways since you still need to focus on finding a job eventually, but this could at least help you financially bridge the gap between then and now.

Swiping up, you decide to just send him a message and hope for the best; after all, the worst he can say is no.

You: Gojo, I need you to be fr with me - does that pickup line in your bio ever actually work?

Sighing, you move to close your computer as you wait for him to respond, but a message pops up almost instantly.

Gojo: Why don’t you find out tonight over dinner - 7:30 work for you?

A smile starts to form on your lips - this was almost too easy. The two of you briefly confirm the details of your first date before you finally shut your laptop and start getting ready.

–

Standing outside of the restaurant, you’re suddenly hit with a wave of nervousness as the reality of what you’re about to do sets in.

There’s no way this is a good idea - maybe I should just go home. No, no, I’ve made it this far, and I really do need the money.

You inhale a shaky breath as you try to steady yourself before reaching for the door and walking inside. The restaurant is beautiful, the scent of fresh bread and herbs hitting your nose as soon as your feet step onto the dark wood of the floor. The deep red walls make the space feel cozy, intimately lit with candles and a chandelier hanging overhead. You glance down at the burgundy dress and black heels you decided on since they were the nicest clothes you owned, yet you still feel slightly underdressed.

Glancing around the restaurant, the white-haired man is nowhere to be found. “Hi, um, I’m here to meet someone,” you hesitantly explain to the person at the host stand.

“Ah yes, you must be with Mr. Gojo. Right this way,” he gestures for you to follow him. He leads you through the restaurant to the far back corner, unveiling a small room that was initially hidden behind a curtain.

As you adjust to the dim lighting, you glance around the new space in front of you: a single table with roses placed in the middle, and on one side sits perhaps the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He smiles at you as those bright blue eyes meet yours before they slowly move down and up your body, taking you all in.

“Well, aren’t you a treat,” he grins before getting up to pull out the empty chair for you.

When he stands up you allow your gaze to cover him as your eyes shift up to his white locks then down across his black suit, adorned with a dark red tie that somehow perfectly matches your dress.

“You aren’t half-bad yourself,” you respond as you move across the small space to sit down.

“Careful now, don’t flatter me too much or it’ll go to my head,” he smirks as he returns to his seat across from you. He places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in his palm, staring at you.

Trying to break the silence, you murmur, “This place is nice.”

“Mhm,” he hums, eyes never leaving your face.

“So, um, what do you do?” you continue, desperately trying to loosen the pressure you feel from his gaze.

“Do you care?” he taunts, tilting his head to the side with that same smirk on his face.

“W-well, I-” you stammer.

“It’s okay sweetheart, I’m not offended. You’re here because I’m paying you, and I’m here because I wanted to sit across from a beautiful woman. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that,” he smiles.

The combination of the pet name and him calling you beautiful suddenly makes your cheeks flush and you look down at the table, trying to hide your reddening face.

Suddenly you feel a hand on your chin as Gojo gently tilts your head back up. “Eyes up here, princess,” he purrs. “After all, what’s the point of this little date if I can’t even look at you?”

Something about his touch, his voice, his words has your heart fluttering in your chest. You’ve never been nervous like this over a guy before, and you’ve barely just met him.

You swallow, trying to keep your eyes on his but it almost feels like he’s seeing into you, somehow able to view the depths of your soul. You feel naked in front of him, like he’s looking at your very essence.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally breaks the eye contact with a chuckle. “Sorry, I know I can come off a little intense sometimes. You’re just so gorgeous it feels like I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t try to take it all in.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you finally tear your gaze away from him, softly laughing at the compliment.

The rest of the date goes smoothly - he orders the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu and tells you to get whatever you want, since it’s obviously his treat. The conversation flows easily between the two of you, and you find yourself genuinely enjoying your time with him. When it comes time to leave, he thanks you for spending the night with him and gives you his phone number in case you ever want to go out again. As you part ways to walk towards your car, you get a notification from your bank.

Holy. Shit.

Your eyes widen at the screen. Gojo sent you $2,000.

You almost feel dizzy, not having had this much money at once in nearly months. Now you can pay rent and buy groceries and do all the other stuff you were too broke to do. Sitting in your car, you let out a squeal of excitement.

Unfortunately, your joy gets cut short as you go to turn your car on, the key turning repeatedly in the ignition as it stalls out.

Of course, you think, the one time I don’t put gas in this goddamn thing. To your credit, you really couldn’t afford it, and it had lasted longer on empty before. You had also neglected the oil change, and the tire rotation, and the other maintenance the mechanic kept emailing you was overdue, but how were you supposed to pay for all that anyways? Not knowing what to do, you pull out your phone to call someone to help you. As you unlock it, you’re met with Gojo’s contact information he just put in.

I mean, he would definitely help me. And I know he can afford gas. Sighing, you call him.

He answers almost immediately. “Miss me already?”

You want to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but you really do need his help. “My piece of shit car won’t turn on, and I figured you’re probably still close to the restaurant, could you help?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. I’ll be there in a minute.” Even after just one date, it’s like you can practically hear his smile through the phone.

As promised, he arrives a few minutes later. He drives up in a sleek, black Porsche that has windows so tinted you wouldn’t be able to see inside if he hadn’t rolled his window down. Of course he drives a nice car, you think to yourself.

“Your savior has arrived,” he smirks, leaning his head out the window at you where you stand against your car. Opening the passenger side door reveals the interior of the vehicle, which is just as nice as the outside, with black leather seats and an all-black console. “You know, this is usually the part where you say thank you.” He turns to face you as the scent of his cologne hits you, something woody and crisp.

“Thanks,” you mutter as you settle into the comfortable seat. “You can just take me home.”

“On it,” he responds with a salute.

The drive is quiet as you spiral into your thoughts. How am I supposed to get a job now if I can’t even drive to an interview? How am I even supposed to get groceries? Can I just leave my car at the restaurant? Where else would I even take it? How am I supposed to afford this? Fuck.

Gojo clears his throat next to you, pulling you out of your mind. “You alright over there, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah, sorry,” you stutter, “just stressed.”

He glances over at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Well, what if I could help you be a little less stressed?”

“Oh yeah, and how would you do that exactly?” Looking down, you suddenly notice his hand on your thigh, his thumb moving in slow circles along your skin. The gentle sensation makes you feel flustered as heat begins to pool between your legs.

Am I seriously about to fuck this guy I just met?

Before you can say anything else, Gojo continues. “How about you use my car while I get yours sorted out for you, hm?” A look of surprise flashes across your face at his kindness and lack of sexual proposition. “What, not the offer you were expecting?” he smirks.

“Gojo, I-” you start.

“Look, princess, I want to do this. Let me help you, please?” he pleads.

“Fine,” you relent, “but I owe you one, seriously.”

“Don’t worry about it. But, if you really insist, I’m sure we can figure out a way for you to repay me at some point.” You tilt your head to look at him as his eyes meet yours, a glint of mischief in his blue irises.

After a few more minutes of him flirting with you, his hand never leaving your thigh, Gojo finally pulls up to your apartment building. Stepping out of the car, he hands you the keys and reminds you not to worry, that he’ll take care of everything. You thank him again as you walk inside - he insists you don’t wait outside while he waits for his ride home - and he sends you off with a wave.

Walking into your apartment, your thoughts swirl in your mind as you replay the events that just transpired. How did you manage to find this rich, handsome, courteous man? More importantly, what’s the catch? If he’s truly as good as he seems, why was he on that website in the first place?

Sighing, you flop onto your bed and peel off your dress, tossing it into the accumulating pile of clothes on the floor. Your skin feels warm where he touched you, a part of you wishing he had inched higher. Before you realize you’re doing it, your hands traverse down your body between your legs, gently pulling your panties to the side.

As you rub over your clit, you picture how his soft fingertips would feel against you, how good those long fingers would feel inside you, beckoning you towards your release. Your other hand traces up your chest, gently cupping your breast as you toy with your firm nipple. His name escapes your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer, eyes shut as you picture him. “Gojo,” you can’t stop yourself from moaning into the empty room as your orgasm hits you, legs shaking, the thought of him the only thing on your mind.

Your breathing slows as you come down from your high, heart still pounding in your chest.

Well, that settles it, you think as you sit up. I guess I am going to fuck him.

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