#I read it like- Right when you posted. But I had to catch a plane and then drive an extra hour home and immediately get on zoom for class

[thatonegayship]

I loved the cowboy comic so much that I wrote a oneshot for it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/50934235 🥺 your art is BEYOND amazing, ty for the food

INCREDIBLE!!!!!

[purplereina11]

The Perfect Shot Series You experience a few firsts with Alexia

Word count: 8.8K

Warnings: Sex, there is a warning in this so you can know when to stop reading if you're not wanting to read it

You and Alexia had been dating for a number of weeks now, your mind cast back to your honesty on the beach nearly three weeks ago now and Alexia had changed one ounce with you, she was still the same kind caring thoughtful person you’d come to be very comfortable around. Tonight she’d invited you to one of Barcelona’s away games on the rare time Badalona weren’t playing, you flew in a mere hour from there away win, your team mates interests were all were peaked that you were catching a plane to Madrid instead of travelling back with them.

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm golden hue across the sprawling football stadium. The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the anticipation of the team and fans, a sea of faces buzzing with excitement. You adjusted the strap from your bag, feeling the weight of it against your chest, but today it felt lighter, almost buoyant as you set your bag down at your feet. This evening Real Madrid were taking on Barcelona at home, which was not the advantage it sounded like and should be since they were against such a strong team. One you’d learned they’d never beat in there history.

Today would be the first time you watched Alexia play in person, you’d obviously seen her play on TV before. Your eyes went down the team sheet posted on Instagram, seeing Alexia’s name sat proudly as Captain. Your thoughts danced back to the dates with Alexia, the spark of her laughter still echoing in your mind , your heart raced at the thought of seeing her in this way, she’d always been Alexia with you, but this evening she’d be the great award warning best in the world Alexia Putellas. You could still feel the warmth of her kiss lingering on your lips, a very sweet reminder of the moments.

Your head rose as you chewed your gum looking around you, as the teams took to the pitch, your eyes swept the field, searching for her. There she was, a striking figure in her team’s colours, hair pulled back tightly, determination etched across her face. The sight sent a jolt through you, a mix of admiration and something deeper. You recalled the way she had smiled at one of her teammates, that quick flash of vulnerability beneath her confident exterior. 

You tried to follow the action but your gaze kept straying back to Alexia, her every movement commanding attention, your gaze lowered to your phone a text message from Carla

Am I loosing it, or are you here?

Before you could reply, a sudden cheer from the crowd erupted, pulling your attention back to the game. The opposing team surged forward, and you instinctively raised your phone, capturing the moment. Click. A brilliant shot of Alexia intercepting the ball, her fierce concentration shining through. You couldn’t help but smile.

I’m here

You finally replied, you sat up in your seat looking for Carla who was already looking right at you, you shared a little wave and a text promise to see her at half time if only briefly.

But as the game unfolded, a tension thickened in the air. You could see it in Alexia’s posture, a flicker of frustration as the opposing team pushed harder, their tactics growing more aggressive. The referee’s whistle pierced the air, and Alexia turned, her expression fierce. She shouted, her voice cutting through the air, you could hear her from where you sat at the back over the crowd. The crowd echoed her sentiment, a wave of discontent rolling across the stands. 

You lowered your eyes momentarily, heart racing at the sight of her passion. It was intoxicating, watching her fight for every inch on the field. You couldn’t help the joy and pride you felt when Barcelona scored from a corner, from your position it looked like Patri stole Alexia’s goal shot on the line, your head turned to the big screen for the replay as it was celebrated. Alexia’s shot was going wide so you forgave Patri began smiling and clapped along with the fans around you.

As the first half come to its end, she was walking across the field towards the locker room, she said something to Carla.

“Carla” She called, when they were walking in step she asked, “Do you know if Y/N is here?”

She nodded smiling, “Back left corner, near the man with the big flag”

You turned your head back from the highlights being shown to the field, she caught your gaze, and for a heartbeat, the chaos of the fans around you faded. She flashed you a sly smile, a flicker of recognition that sent warmth flooding through you before moving out of view. It was subtle but it was there. She knew you’d came after playfully telling her you wouldn’t make any promises when she asked if you’d come when she handed you a ticket for the game when you last saw her.

You smiled as your phone lit up Alexia must of barely sat down in the locker room when she text

Remind me to get you a Barca shirt

Can you put Batlle’s name on the back?

Behave

You bit your lip at the slight show of dominance from Alexia, you were becoming increasingly suggestive and flirtatious with each other, the sexual tension was building but neither of you had made the first move to invite the other into there home. Your dynamic was quite evenly balanced you were trying to explain that to Carla one evening over drinks when she finally asked about the pair of you and you felt you could share.

Yes La Reina

The second half was a little less stressful Barcelona dominated in ways they always did, you hadn’t sat down much like the fans around you, the chances were coming in waves after waves, you smiled clapping as Alexia scored 2 minutes into the stoppage time. You shook your head as she ran in your direction the unbridled joy on her face involuntarily causing your lips to smile also, she looked directly into your soul as she celebrated, she fired a kiss off waved and jogged away again.

It wasn’t long after the full time whistle went you found yourself collecting your bag you wrapped the Barca flag you were supporting more around yourself, the cold chill of the air settling around you. You were collected by Carla and taken into an area marked as authorised personal only, you were in full conversation with a smile on your face, “You have to get the tattoo Y/N ever since I’ve known you, you mention it at least once a week.

“You want a tattoo?” Your head rose as an arm came around your neck, Carla’s mouth dropped at the way you both looked at each other, both your eyes sparkling, you simply nodded, “I’ll go with you”

“You would?” You asked enjoying the feeling of being slotted under Alexia’s arm, she nodded, “Well.. ok”

“Book the appointment”

You had literally been back in Barcelona 4 hours when Alexia rang you that she was outside, she’d booked you an appointment to get your tattoo with the artist you’d been in contact with, it was a whirlwind 20 minutes until you found yourself outside the shop.

"Alexia, I must confess, my heart is racing at the thought of getting this tattoo," you say, your voice trembling slightly as you share your vulnerability. The anticipation looms large, and the reality of the moment begins to settle in. Her gaze softens, and she responds with a warm smile that radiates understanding

"Don't worry, I've got you," Alexia reassures you, her hand gently squeezing your shoulder. "Remember, I'll be right here the whole time." 

You nod, grateful for her presence. As you both enter the tattoo parlour, the buzz of needles and faint rock music fills the air. The scent of antiseptic mingles with incense, creating an oddly comforting atmosphere.

"First timer?" the artist asks, noticing your nervous energy.

"Is it that obvious?" you chuckle, trying to mask your anxiety.

Alexia pipes up, “She’s braver than she looks. I've seen her eat pineapple on pizza."

You playfully roll your eyes at her joke, already feeling more at ease. As you settle into the chair, Alexia takes your hand, her thumb tracing soothing circles on your palm. You’d noticed over the last few meetings Alexia had got more comfortable in placing a hand in yours or on your lower back. She’d even tapped your arse on one occasion as she instructed you to walk through a door first, you both new you were bound to cross that line of intimacy sooner rather than later one of you just needed to invite the other over. One of you just needed to make that first move.

"So, have you decided on the final design?" Alexia asks, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

You pull out your phone, fingers fumbling slightly as you scroll through your gallery. "I think so. What do you think of this one?" you ask, showing her the song lyrics you've been obsessing over for months, that really resonated with you.

Alexia's eyes widen, a look of genuine admiration spreading across her face. "It's completely you," she breathes, leaning in closer to examine the font for the quote you showed her. "Is that someone’s handwriting?"

You shook your head swallowing, “No just like cursive”

“Long story short I survived” Alexia smiled knowing the song because her sister was obsessed with it at one point, “It’s perfect, you should go for it”

Her enthusiasm is contagious, and you feel a surge of excitement replacing your nervousness. The tattoo artist nods approvingly as you show him the design.

"Nice choice," he says, preparing his equipment. "Where are we putting this?"

You hesitate for a moment, then pull up your shirt slightly to reveal your ribcage. "Right here," you say, your fingertips grazing the spot adjacent to your breast.

Alexia's eyes follow your movement, and you notice a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. She clears her throat and says, "That's, um, that's a great spot. I’ll be." she pointed aimlessly behind her to the wall of tattoo options clearly a little flustered you looked at yourself in the mirror and noticed it was obvious you were without a bra and she got a little flash of the side of your breast.

As the tattoo artist begins to stencil the design onto your skin, you can't help but notice Alexia's lingering gaze. She's trying to be subtle, but her eyes keep darting back to the exposed skin of your ribcage. Or the area painfully close. You feel a little thrill at her obvious interest.

"So, um, how long have you wanted this tattoo?" Alexia asks, clearly trying to distract herself her eyes not coming off the wall.

You smile, enjoying her flustered state. "Oh, for a while now. But I never had the courage until now."

"Why now?" she asks, her eyes meeting yours.

You hold her gaze, feeling suddenly bold. "I guess I just needed the right person to give me that final push."

Alexia's breath catches, and for a moment, the air between you feels electric. The tattoo artist clears his throat, breaking the spell.

"Alright, so i’m going to step out whilst you get yourself ready, I’m going to need you remove your shirt and sit with your chest pressed against the back of this chair, is that ok?” He asked, with a smile you nodded as he left, even he eyed Alexia her face practically pressed up against the wall on his way past. You bit your lip at the thrill of excitement when you removed your shirt and you were bare Alexia a matter of steps away, you did as you were told, “All ready?”

“Yeah”

He came back in with a gentle smile, in the mirror in front of you, you see Alexia turn to look over her shoulder and her throat bounced. “I drew that flower we spoke about”

You looked to the artist, “Can I see?” You bit your lip when he grabbed the stencil and got a little smile, it was just what you wanted before you landed on the quote.

“Why don’t you see how you find getting this one then we’ll see about the other?” you nodded

You can't help but smirk at Alexia's flustered reaction as she moved nearer changing the wall she was staring at. As the tattoo artist begins to prep the gun, you decide to have a little fun with the situation.

"Hey Alexia," you call out, your voice playful, "Why don't you come hold my hand? I might need some moral support." Your arms resting over the back of the chair you turned one hand over in a visual request.

She turns back to you, her cheeks still tinged pink. "Oh, um, sure," she stammers, making her way back to your side, her eyes darting, but you caught the glance to your chest.

As she takes your hand, you feel a spark of electricity between you. The tattoo artist begins his work, and you wince slightly at the first prick of the needle.

"You okay?" Alexia asks, concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah, just... distract me?" you request, squeezing her hand.

Alexia nods, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "So, tell me about this flower tattoo you're considering. Is it going somewhere... interesting?" she asks, her gaze briefly flickering down to your exposed skin.

You can't help but grin at her playful tone. "Wouldn't you like to know?" you tease back, enjoying this flirtatious banter. The sting of the needle becomes a distant sensation as you focus on Alexia's face.

"Maybe I would," she replies, her voice low and husky. Her thumb traces lazy circles on your palm, sending shivers up your arm.

The tattoo artist clears his throat, reminding you both of his presence. "So, uh, how do you two know each other?" he asks, clearly picking up on the tension between you.

You and Alexia exchange a look, both suppressing smiles. 

"Oh, we're... friends," you say, your tone playful.

"Mmhmm, friends," Alexia echoes, giving your hand a little squeeze. "Who happens to spend an awful lot of time together."

The tattoo artist chuckles. "Right, 'friends.' Got it."

As he continues working on your tattoo, you find yourself getting lost in conversation with Alexia. She tells you funny stories about her day at work, describes a new recipe she wants to try, and asks your opinion on a book she's reading. Before you know it, the sting of the needle has faded into the background and you were done

"Alright, we're all done" the artist announces. "Want to take a look?"

You nod eagerly, you took your hand back from Alexia and without a care your arm came over your chest as you stood you more than certain Alexia got an unintentional eye full by the intense shade of red she went. You got a smile on your face as you admired it in the mirror, “Oh I love it, thank you so much, it’s just what I wanted.”

The artist smiled widely, the best part of his job was seeing his customers happy faces at the end, “So..We doing the flower?” he asked with a wide smile

You hesitate for a moment, glancing at Alexia. Her eyes are wide with anticipation, a mix of curiosity and something else you can't quite place flickering across her face. You feel a surge of boldness, fuelled by the adrenaline of your first tattoo and the electric tension between you two.

"You know what? Let's do it," you declare, surprising even yourself, feeling emboldened by the rush of endorphins from your first tattoo.

The artist grins, clearly excited by your enthusiasm. "Alright! Where are we putting this one?"

You bite your lip, considering. Your eyes lock with Alexia's as you make your decision, and suddenly you’re feeling daring. "How about... here?" you suggest, trailing your fingers along the crease where the top of your leg met your most intimate area

Alexia's breath hitches audibly, and you can't help but smirk at her reaction.You notice her pupils dilate slightly. The artist, oblivious to the charged atmosphere, nods approvingly.

"Great choice," the artist says, preparing his equipment once again. "This one might be a bit more sensitive, just to warn you."

You nod, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. As you collect your discarded top, you can't help but notice Alexia fidgeting, her eyes darting between you and the floor.

"It'll look great there. I'll need you to lower your jeans a bit to access the area."

You hook your thumbs into your waistband, hesitating for just a moment before slowly sliding your jeans down a few inches. The movement exposes a tantalising peak of your underwear. You catch Alexia's gaze following the motion, her eyes widening slightly.

"Is this okay?" you ask innocently, looking directly at Alexia rather than the artist.

She swallows hard, her voice a bit hoarse as she replies, "Y-yeah, that's... that's perfect."

The artist begins preparing the area, and you lie back on the chair, hyper-aware of Alexia's presence beside you. Her eyes keep darting between your face and the exposed black panties you were sporting her fingers fidgeting nervously. You can practically feel the tension radiating off her. With her cheeks flushed, you decide to push things a little further.

"So, Alexia," you say casually as the artist begins to work on the placement of the stencil, “What do you think about flower tattoos?"

She startles slightly at being addressed, her cheeks flushing. "Oh, um, I think they're beautiful. Especially in... certain places."

You raise an eyebrow, enjoying her flustered state. "Oh? And what places might those be?"

The artist chuckles quietly, clearly amused by your banter. Alexia opens her mouth to respond, then closes it again, seemingly at a loss for words.

"You know," you continue, wincing slightly as the needle hits a sensitive spot, "I might need you to hold my hand again. This one's a bit more... sensitive."

Alexia nods eagerly, wordlessly taking your hand in hers. Her palm is slightly sweaty, betraying her nervousness. As the artist begins, you let out a small gasp at the sensation.

"You okay?" Alexia asks, her voice filled with concern.

"Yeah," you breathe, squeezing her hand. "It's just... intense."

The artist works diligently, and you try to focus on Alexia's face to distract yourself from the discomfort. Her eyes meet yours, and suddenly the air feels thick with unspoken tension.

"So," you say, your voice low, "what do you think of my choice of placement?”

Alexia's eyes flicker down to where the artist is working, then quickly back up to your face. She licks her lips nervously before responding.

"I think it's...," she says, her voice husky. “Incredibly sexy."

Your breath catches at her words, the intensity of her gaze making your skin tingle. The artist continues his work, oblivious to the charged atmosphere between you two at the top of the bed.

"Yeah?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm glad you approve."

Alexia's thumb traces slow circles on your palm, sending goosebumps up your arm. You can't help but imagine those fingers exploring other parts of your body.

"You know," you continue, wincing slightly as the needle hits a particularly sensitive spot, "I might need some extra distraction for this one. Any ideas?"

Alexia's eyes darken with desire. She leans in closer, her lips just inches from your ear. "I might have a few ideas," she whispers, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

You turn your head slightly, your noses almost touching. "Care to share?" you murmur, your heart racing.

Alexia's gaze flicks down to your lips, then back up to meet your eyes. The tension between you is palpable, electric. She opens her mouth to respond when suddenly, the tattoo artist speaks, reminding you both of his presence. "Almost done here," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Alexia pulls back slightly, but her eyes remain locked on yours. "Maybe I'll show you later," she says, her voice low and full of promise.

You feel a rush of anticipation at her words. The sting of the needle barely registers as you lose yourself in Alexia's gaze. 

"All done," the artist announces, breaking the spell. "Want to take a look?"

As the artist steps back, a sense of exhilaration washes over you. You sit up slowly, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. With a gentle nod, you climb off the bed heading to the mirror, your breath catching in your throat as you take in the sight of your new tattoo. 

“Oh my gosh, it’s beautiful!” you exclaim, your eyes widening with joy. The intricate design of the flower, capturing the essence of what you wanted perfectly. You can’t help but smile, feeling a rush of pride and satisfaction at the stunning artwork now adorning your skin.

The artist beams, clearly pleased with his work. “I’m glad you like it! You were a fantastic canvas,” he says, cleaning up his station.

You look up at Alexia in the mirror, who’s watching you with a look of admiration and something deeper—something electric. Her eyes sparkle with excitement, and you can see the warmth radiating from her before you felt it when she stood incredibly close behind you.

“See? I told you it would be worth it,” she says, her voice filled with genuine happiness for you, her breathe tickling your ear. You can’t help but notice how her gaze lingers on your tattoo, tracing the lines with her eyes as if trying to memorise every detail.

“Thank you for being here,” you say softly, your heart swelling with gratitude. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Alexia’s cheeks flush slightly, and she brushes a stray hair behind her ear. “I wouldn’t have missed it your first time. I’m proud of you.” 

As the moments stretch, you feel a familiar flutter in your chest. It’s a mix of exhilaration from the tattoo and the undeniable connection that has been building between you two. You take a step closer back into to her, your arse pressing into her groin, feeling the heat radiate off your skin where the tattoo now rests.

“Maybe,” you suggest playfully, “you could kiss them better.. at some point”

Her eyes widen, a mixture of surprise and intrigue dancing across her features. “Oh?” she asks, her tone teasing yet curious.

Your heart races as the implications of your words settle in. The air between you thickens with unspoken possibilities, and for a fleeting moment, you wanted to just have her here. 

Her gaze holds yours, the tension palpable as a charged silence envelops you. There’s a flicker of something in her eyes, a spark that ignites a longing within you. 

“Maybe we can make that happen sooner rather than later,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.

The tattoo artist’s voice breaks through the moment as he gathers his supplies. “Just make sure to keep the area clean and moisturised for the next few weeks,” he instructs. 

You nod, still caught in the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you and Alexia. She clears her throat moving away as you raise your jeans back up around your waist. As you leave the studio, hand in hand, the world feels different now—full of potential and uncharted territories waiting to be explored. 

With each step you take outside into the sunlight, the tattoo feels like a new chapter in your life, one that you’re eager to share with Alexia. The journey ahead seems thrilling, and you can’t help but feel that this is just the beginning of something beautiful—something that transcends friendship and flirts with the edges of intimacy. 

As you walk side by side, laughter and playful banter fill the air, but beneath it all lies a current of unspoken desires, waiting for the perfect moment to emerge. And in that moment, you realise that this tattoo isn’t just about ink on skin; it’s a symbol of courage, connection, and the promise of more adventures to come.

++++

As you settled into the comfort of your home getting home from the Badalona home match, your eyes were glued to the screen, after turning it on to watch Barcelona, you tuned in on the hour mark shocked to see the score line. You began witnessing Barcelona’s unfortunate struggle against Levante. The match marked a disheartening milestone, as it was the team's first defeat in an astonishing 46 Liga games. Amidst the unfolding drama on the field, your thoughts were consumed with concern for Alexia, whose fate seemed intertwined with the outcome of the match.

In that moment, as the game unfolded, the tension in the air was palpable in your home so you couldn’t imagine what it was like for the players involved and in the stadium. The vibrant colours of Barcelona's jerseys, once a symbol of triumph, now seemed muted against the backdrop of their unexpected defeat. Each passing minute felt like an eternity as you watched the players battle for every inch, their determination evident, yet the elusive victory slipped further away when Levante scored a second in the 94th minute. The scoreline reflected not just a loss, but also the weight of expectations that come with being a top-tier team.

Your thoughts drifted to Alexia, whose presence brought you joy and inspiration, a player known for her tenacity and skill, an embodiment of the spirit that Barcelona fans cherish. The worry you felt for her stemmed for the emotional toll such a loss could take on her. You could see her on the field, giving it her all, and the thought of her disappointment mingled with your own.

As the final whistle blew, signalling the end of the game, a wave of melancholy washed over you. The cheers of the opposing fans echoed in stark contrast to your own feelings of dismay. In that moment of reflection, you realised that this defeat was not just about the game; it was a reminder of the highs and lows that come with sports and the deep connections you forge with players in them.

You tried to find a solace in the thought that even the greatest teams face adversity, and that this moment, though painful, would eventually lead to growth and resilience. As you pondered the implications of the game, your concern for Alexia transformed into a desire to support her, knowing that true strength is often revealed in the face of setbacks. But it was well told how when Alexia suffered a defeat she went into herself, so you found yourself in shock when little over an hour later, Alexia’s name was lightening up your phone.

“Hi” You spoke softly, she didn’t speak right away, but you wished she hadn’t when you heard the sadness in her voice

“Hola”

You didn’t know what to say, how could you even begin to comfort her after the evening she’d had. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken emotions. You could almost feel Alexia's disappointment through the phone, her usually vibrant energy subdued."Alexia," You breathe, your heart aching at the pain in her voice. "I... I'm sorry about the match," I finally manage, wincing at how inadequate the words sound.

There's a long pause, and you could feel her struggling to find the words. Alexia sighs, a soft, broken sound that tugs at my heart. When she finally speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper. "I just... I don't understand what happened out there. We were so close."

I close my eyes, wishing I could reach through the phone and hold her. "You played your heart out, Alexia. Everyone could see that."

"Did we?" There's a bitter edge to her words now. "Maybe we didn't fight hard enough. Maybe we got complacent. But it wasn't enough," she says, her voice cracking. "We let everyone down. I let everyone down."

"No," You said firmly, surprising yourself with the intensity in your tone. "You didn't let anyone down. This is just one game, one moment. It doesn't define you or the team."

You hear a soft sniffle and a shaky breath on the other end of the line, and my heart clenches."But it feels like it does," Alexia whispers. "We were undefeated for so long. And now..."

"And now you have a chance to show everyone how you bounce back," you say gently. "That's what makes a true champion, Alexia. Not never falling, but how you rise after you do."

“Everyone expected us to keep winning."

You take a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. "Expectations can be a heavy burden, Alexia. But remember, you're human. The team is human. Perfection isn't sustainable, and that's okay."

There's a long pause, and for a moment you worry you've said the wrong thing. But then you hear a soft chuckle, barely audible but unmistakably there.

"When did you get so wise?" Alexia asks, a hint of her usual playfulness creeping back into her voice.

You feel a smile tugging at my lips. "I learned from the best."

Another pause, but this one feels lighter somehow. "Can i come over?" Alexia says softly.

“Of course” you both ended the call and you were waiting with anticipation with the Alexia you would be met with, usually her smile was ever present. But as you opened the door, that smile wasn’t there.

You open the door, and your heart sinks as you take in Alexia's appearance. Her usual radiant smile is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a weariness that seems to weigh down her entire being. Her eyes, usually sparkling with life, are red-rimmed and puffy, evidence of the tears she's shed.

"Hey," you say softly, stepping aside to let her in. She moves past you, her shoulders slumped, and you can almost feel the heaviness of her disappointment in the air.

Alexia stands in the middle of your living room, looking lost and vulnerable. Without a word, you close the distance between you and wrap your arms around her. She stiffens for a moment, then melts into your embrace, burying her face in your shoulder.

You hold Alexia tightly, feeling her body slump slightly as she finally lets her guard down. Her breath comes in shaky gasps against your neck. You don't say anything, knowing that sometimes silence is the most comforting sound.

After a few minutes, Alexia pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting yours. There's a raw vulnerability in her gaze that makes your heart ache. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice hoarse. "I didn't mean dump on you like this."

You shake your head, reaching up to gently wipe a thumb over her cheek. "Don't apologise. You're allowed to feel this, Alexia. It's okay to be upset."

She nods, taking a deep breath. "I just... I don’t normally reach out after bad games like this, i prefer to be alone but i knew you’d make me feel better”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest at her words, touched by her trust in you. your heart swells with a mixture of pride and tenderness at your words "I'm glad you came," you say softly, leading her to the couch. "Do you want to talk about it, or would you rather just... be?"

Alexia sinks into the cushions, her eyes distant. "I don't know," she admits. "It's all just... jumbled up in my head."

Her body language still tense. You sit beside her, close enough to offer comfort but giving her space if she needs it. "That's okay. We can just sit here if you want."

She nods, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. You watch her, noticing the tension in her jaw, the slight tremor in her hands as she runs a hand through her hair, a gesture you've come to recognise as a sign of her frustration without thinking, you reach out and take her hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Alexia's eyes flutter open, and she looks at you with a mix of gratitude and something else you can't quite place. She squeezes your hand back, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, she closes the distance and closes her lips around yours, “Thank you” she whispers, her voice barely audible, your eyes lingered in yours.

As Alexia's lips meet yours again, you feel a surge of warmth and tenderness. The kiss is soft, hesitant at first, as if she's seeking comfort and reassurance. You respond gently, letting her set the pace, your hand coming up to cup her cheek.

The kiss deepens, and you can taste the salt of her earlier tears. There's a desperation in the way she clings to you now, as if you're an anchor in the storm of her emotions. Your fingers thread through her hair, and you pull her closer, trying to convey without words that you're here for her, that she's safe.

When you finally break apart, both slightly breathless, Alexia rests her forehead against yours. Her eyes are closed, but her expression seems more peaceful now. "I needed that," she whispers, her breath warm against your lips.

You brush your thumb across her cheek, “You don’t have to stop there” you spoke your words laced with hints of what you wanted if she wanted to also.

Alexia's eyes lift, meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and growing desire. Her lips part slightly, and you feel her breath quicken. "Are you sure?" she asks softly, her voice husky.

In response, you move to straddle her lap leaning in and capture her lips again, this time with more intensity. Alexia responds immediately, her hands sliding up your thighs to grip your hips. The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate as the emotional tension of the evening transforms into something else entirely.

You press yourself closer, your hands holding her face. This time, the kiss is different. There's a hunger behind it, a need that goes beyond comfort, “I want you.” Alexia gasps between kisses. She breaks the kiss, her lips trailing along your jaw and down your neck. You shiver at the sensation, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

“Take me” your hand rests on the back of her neck as her lips find your bare collarbone kissing over to the other on, your hips moving instinctively against her.

"Bedroom?" Alexia murmurs against your skin, her voice low and filled with want.

You nod, unable to form words as desire floods your senses. You stand up, pulling Alexia up with you. Your lips find hers again as you stumble towards the bedroom, hands roaming and clothes being shed along the way.

By the time you reach the bed, you're both down to your underwear, once inside, Alexia pulls you close again, her kisses more urgent now. Her hands roam your body, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Your fingers trace the lines of her toned abdomen, marvelling at the softness of her skin. Alexia shivers under your touch, her eyes dark with want. Alexia backs you towards the bed, she gently pushes you onto the mattress, her eyes dark with want as she takes in the sight of you. She crawls over you, her body pressing against yours in all the right places.

Alexia's eyes sparkle with desire in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the balcony doors. "Are you sure?" She whispers, her voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the city coming alive for the evening.

Your lips curve into a gentle smile. "I've never been more certain of anything," you murmur, her fingers now tracing the line of your thigh.

You reach up to cup her face, you pull it to you, capturing her lips with yours. The kiss starts slow, it’s tender at first, a delicate exploration, but quickly deepens as the passion between you re-ignites. Her hands tangle in your hair as she pulls you closer, the warmth of her body against yours making you dizzy with desire. Her weight on top of you feels right, like she belongs there.

You run your hands along her sides, feeling the soft curve of her waist, the softness of her skin, the warmth of her body. Alexia's lips leave yours, trailing kisses down your neck, each one sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You gasp as she finds a particularly sensitive spot, your fingers digging into her back.

"You're beautiful," Alexia murmurs against your skin, her breath warm and tickling on your collarbone. Her words make your heart swell, and you pull her back up to kiss her deeply, pouring all your emotions into it. 

Her hands explore your body, tracing every curve, every dip. Like she wants to memorise every inch of you. Alexia's fingers dance across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The world outside fades away until there's nothing but the two of you, lost in each other's embrace in your bedroom.

Your hands fumble with the clasp her bra, eager to see more of her. Alexia chuckles softly, her laugh like music to your ears. She sits up, between your legs, and slowly reaches back to unclasp the last piece of clothing she had on you bare for all to see, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. You watch, mesmerised, as she reveals more of herself to you.

Alexia's bra soon joins the clothes on the floor, and you marvel at her as your hands explore her body bumping over each of her breasts. Her lips trace a path down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arch into her touch, craving more.

“You’re so fucking sexy” she whispers again against your skin, her breath warm and enticing.

Your fingers tangle in her hair as she continues her journey downward, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts, paying special extended attention to each. A soft moan escapes your lips, and you feel her smile against your skin.

The world narrows even more to just the two of you, the sounds of Barcelona fading away. All that matters is Alexia's touch, her lips, her skin against yours. Time seems to slow as you lose yourself in the sensations she's creating.

Your hands roam her back, tracing the curve of her spine, pulling her closer. Your breath catches in your throat. The moonlight caresses her skin, painting her in silver and shadow. She shivers under your touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“Touch me,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I need you”

Alexia leans down, capturing your lips once more. The kiss is deeper now, more urgent. Your hands roam her back, feeling the play of muscles rippling beneath her skin as she moves against you. The weight of her, the warmth of her body pressed against yours, it's intoxicating. Your head went back as all four of her fingers ran down your intimate area, you got a little smile as your mouth opened, she was just where you wanted her to be.

“Why have I never noticed how big your hands are before?” You mused as her movements were methodical and slow up and down, up and down she was giving you a little bit of a taste of what was to come she didn’t dip inside your folds tantalising caressing the outside.

You roll, gently flipping your positions. Now you're the one looking down at Alexia, her hair fanned out on the pillow, her eyes dark with desire at the sudden movement of you taking control.

You hover above Alexia, drinking in the sight of her. Her chest rises and falls with each breath, her skin flushed with desire glowing in the moonlight. You lean down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. She whimpers softly, her hands coming up to grip your waist. 

"Please," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smile, trailing kisses down her neck, “You teased me” Savouring the taste of her skin. Your hands explore her body, memorising every inch. You want to know every inch of her, to worship her the way she deserves. “Shall I tease you?” Her quiet gasps and sighs of pleasure encourage you, spurring you on

Alexia arches into your touch as you lavish attention on her breasts. Her fingers tangle in yours when you held her hand. The sounds she makes, soft moans and gasps, are the most beautiful music you've ever heard as your free hand goes down tantalising down her body you bump over her pubic bone then pull it back up. “Mi amor, por favour”

Your lips continue their journey down Alexia's body, trailing kisses across her stomach. Her skin quivers beneath your touch, goosebumps rising in the wake of your caresses. You pause at her hip, looking up to meet her gaze. Her eyes are heavy-lidded with desire, her lips parted as she pants softly. You knew exactly what you were doing.

"Is this okay?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alexia nods, her fingers tightening around yours. “Si,” she breathes. “Por favor, don't stop."

Encouraged by her words, you continue your exploration, you let go of her hand as you settle between her legs. Your hands caress her thighs as you settle between them, placing soft kisses along the inside of her leg finding all her sensitive spots. Alexia's breath hitches as you near her centre, her hips lifting slightly off the bed in anticipation. Bucking slightly at the contact, a soft moan escaping her lips.

The first taste of her is intoxicating. You take your time, savouring every moment, every taste, every sound she makes. Your tongue traces patterns on her sensitive flesh, alternating between gentle licks and more focused attention. Alexia's fingers tighten in your hair, guiding you where she needs you most. Her soft moans grow louder, more insistent, as you bring her closer to the edge. 

You look up, wanting to see her face as pleasure washes over her. Alexia's head is thrown back, her eyes closed, lips parted as she pants. She's never looked more beautiful than in this moment of abandon.

"Look at me," you whisper, your breath hot against her most sensitive areas.

Alexia's eyes open, meeting yours. The connection is electric, intimate in a way that takes your breath away. You hold her gaze as you redouble your efforts, watching as the pleasure builds within her.

Her hips begin to move in rhythm with your movements, her breathing growing more ragged. 

"Oh god," she gasps, her fingers tightening in your hair, you enjoying the slight tugging, you slide your hands under her thighs, holding her close as you worship her with your lips and tongue.

You look up, watching her face as pleasure washes over her. Her head is thrown back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. Her lips are parted, soft moans escaping with each breath. The sight of her lost in ecstasy is breathtaking.

You increase your efforts, your tongue moving faster, more insistently. Alexia's thighs begin to tremble, her back arching off the bed. You can feel her getting close, her body tensing beneath you. You slide one hand up her body to caress her breast, feeling her nipple harden under your palm, your hand found her neck gently forcing her to hold eye contact.

Her hips rocking against your mouth, you increase the pressure and speed of your tongue, wanting to bring her to the heights of pleasure. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, as she nears her climax

You lavish attention there, circling and flicking your tongue in a steady rhythm. You can feel her getting close, teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

Alexia's body tenses, you moves your hand from her neck, as her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over her. Her thighs clamp around your head as she cries out your name, her fingers tightening against your hand on her breast as she rides out her climax. You continue your gentle work, drawing out her orgasm for as long as possible.

As her tremors subside, you place soft kisses on her inner thighs, her hips, her stomach, slowly making your way back up her body. Alexia's eyes are closed, her chest heaving as she catches her breath, a sheen of sweat glistening on her skin in the moonlight. When you reach her face, you pepper her cheeks with light kisses, tasting the salt of her sweat on her flushed skin.

Alexia's eyes flutter open, meeting yours, dark and hazy with lingering pleasure the look she gives you is filled with such tenderness and love that it makes your heart skip a beat. A slow, satisfied smile spreads across her lips as she pulls you down for a deep, languid kiss. You can feel the rapid beating of her heart against your chest as she holds you close.

“Your turn” she whispers

A shiver of anticipation runs through you at Alexia's words. Her hands are already moving, caressing your sides as she rolls you onto your back. She hovers above you, her hair falling around her face like a curtain, creating an intimate cocoon just for the two of you.

A mischievous glint in her eye. She leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.

Her hands roam your body, tracing patterns on your skin that make you shiver with delight. She breaks the kiss, trailing her lips along your jawline and down your neck. You tilt your head, giving her better access, a soft moan escaping your lips as she uses her tongue.

"I want to make you feel as amazing as you made me feel," Alexia murmurs against your skin. Her words send a flush of warmth through your body, making your heart swell with excitement and anticipation.

Her touch is electric, igniting every nerve ending as she explores your body. She takes her time, savouring every inch of you, her fingers and lips leaving trails of fire in their wake. You arch into her touch, craving more, your body humming with desire.

Alexia's mouth finds your breast, her tongue swirling around your nipple as her hand caresses the other. You gasp, your fingers tangling in Alexia's silky hair, holding her close as waves of pleasure wash over you. The sensation is exquisite, pleasure radiating through your body her talented mouth and hands work in tandem, drawing soft gasps and moans from your lips. She alternates between gentle caresses and more insistent touches, building your arousal higher and higher.

Her free hand trails down your stomach, tracing circles on your skin. Your muscles quiver beneath her touch, anticipation building as her fingers move lower. When she finally reaches your centre, you gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily when she touched what she teased earlier.

Alexia looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire. “You like that?” she asks, her voice husky as her fingers move in magic circles holding the most intense eye contact.

"Yes," you breathe, barely able to form words. "Please, don't stop."

She smiles, a glint in her eye. She stops.

She got the most seductive smirk on her lips watching you a laboured breathing mess anticipation making it impossible for you to calm. She held your chin in her hand, “Please”

“Do you want it?” She asked, you bit your lip nodding, using her thumb to pull it from your teeth before nibbling it herself gently tugging at it before kissing the sting before lowering her head to trail kisses down your body. Her tongue traces patterns on your inner thighs, teasing you, building your anticipation as she settles between your thighs this time, her warm breath teasing your sensitive skin. She looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire, seeking permission. You nod, unable to form words.

The first touch of her tongue against you makes you cry out, your hips lifting off the bed. Alexia's hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as she explores you with her lips and tongue. She takes her time, learning what makes you gasp and moan, what makes your body tremble.

Alexia's tongue moves in slow, deliberate circles, with exquisite skill, alternating between long, slow strokes and quick flicks that send jolts of pleasure through your body. Your hands grip the sheets, your head thrown back as waves of sensation wash over you.

Her hands caress your thighs, occasionally dipping lower to tease your entrance. The dual sensations make your head spin, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

The dual stimulation is almost too much to bear. Your hips move of their own accord, seeking more contact, more friction. Alexia's free hand splays across your stomach, holding you down gently as she works you closer and closer to the edge. "Alexia," you gasp, your voice breathy and desperate. "Oh shit, Alexia..."

She hums in response, the vibration adding another layer to the pleasure building within you. Your thighs begin to tremble, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

You look down, meeting Alexia's gaze. The sight of her between your legs, her eyes dark with desire, sends a fresh wave of arousal through you. You reach down, running your fingers through her hair, gently tugging trying to hold on or dear life.

She responds eagerly, increasing the pressure and speed of her tongue. Your breath comes in short gasps now, your hips moving in rhythm with her. Working together towards the ultimate ending. The tension builds within you, a coiling spring ready to release.

Alexia slips two fingers inside you, the added stimulation pushes you closer to the edge. You’re so close you feel the need to tell her, “I’m so close” you gasp, your voice trembling with need.

Alexia redoubles her efforts, her tongue moving faster, more insistently against you. Her fingers curl inside you, finding that perfect spot that makes you see stars. The dual sensations are overwhelming, pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity. Threatening to send you spiralling towards your peak.

Your back arches off the bed, your thighs trembling as you teeter on the edge of ecstasy. Your fingers moving to tightening on the sheets pulling at them as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable intensity.

Alexia's free hand slides up your body to caress your breast, her thumb brushing over your nipple. The added stimulation is the final push you need.

"Fuck! Alexia!" you cry out as your orgasm crashes over you. Waves of ecstasy roll through your body, making you tremble and shake. “Yes” you cry out, Alexia doesn't let up, drawing out your pleasure for as long as possible until you gently push her away, oversensitive.

She kisses her way back up your body as you come down from your high, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. When she reaches your face, you pull her in for a deep kiss, tasting yourself on her lips.

Alexia settles beside you, her arm draped across your waist as she nuzzles into your neck, as you both catch your breath. Your breathing slowly returns to normal as you bask in the afterglow, feeling utterly content and sated.

The moonlight bathes the room in a soft glow, casting gentle shadows across her face.

You turn your head to look at her, marvelling at how beautiful she looks with her tousled hair and flushed cheeks, her eyes bright with contentment.

"That was..." you trail off, unable to find words adequate enough to describe the experience.

"Amazing," Alexia finishes for you, a soft smile playing on her lips. She reaches up to brush a strand of hair from your face, her touch tender and loving. She leans in to kiss you gently, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

"You're amazing," you murmur against her mouth.

Your legs tangling together beneath the sheets, savouring the feeling of skin against skin her arm draping over your waist, “What was the score again?” You laugh gently “This wasn’t a booty call by the way” You blink, “That doesn’t mean i didn’t want to, I would never say no to you, but i want you to know i called you tonight because i wanted to see you, i had a shit game and the only thing i knew would make it better was you”

You pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “I didn’t think it was” you gently moved your fingers over her head massaging as she held her face in your neck her soft breathe warming the spot, the breathing soon changed and you knew she’d fallen asleep the emotion and excursions of the day catching up with her.

It took you longer to feel tired, just basking in the feeling of having her close in your bed this way, you careful to not wake her dragged the sheets up over you both, put both arms around her kissed her head closed your eyes and actively tried to get some sleep yourself.

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

say yes to heaven

how spencer and you deal (or don't deal) with the fact that he doesn’t want a baby anymore after coming home from prison, and you really do.

MDNI | angst

word count: 2226 warnings & tags & stuff: bau!reader, avoidant reader, avoidant spencer, no happy ending (wtf), reader wants a baby, one line about reader not having a certain religious belief, they like almost have sex, spencer undresses reader, lots of talk about a condom, they dont really fight at all?, very underdeveloped/bad description of quantum immortality author's note: heyyyyy guyss whats up..... this is a different vibe to my regular stuff and i fear it may be really ooc?? i don't know how to feel but i literally have to post or i'll go even more crazy sooo here we are!! have a delightful day, let me know your thoughts if you have any, ily!!!

Antique shops, you and Spencer have decided, are the hidden gems of this nation yet to be appreciated enough by the general public. 

Each town or city you visit is bound to have one, and going to them has become a little celebratory tradition. In the early mornings after cases are solved, right before the plane ride home, you take a look around. You’re typically the first and only ones in the store, wandering with intertwined hands and sipping on ‘2 extra foamy cappuccinos with an additional shot of espresso, please’ and occasionally, but not necessarily, choosing something to take back to D.C.

You’ve been trying your absolute hardest to fill your home to the brim– sometimes with objects, and other times with words, or touch, or the ever so valuable and fleeting concept of shared time– in effort to replace what had been lost in that three month long period when it was completely devoid of tangible, fresh love.

It’s today you’re wandering through a quaint, very cluttered shop in western Oregon, the Pacific visible from the store’s windows. 

Wheels up in an hour. Don’t be late. Hotch’s text buzzes in your pocket, but you barely glance at it– there’s something about the Oregon coast that reaches into your heart and gives it a gentle massage, enveloping you in a refreshing lack of urgency.

Spencer, in his own peaceful world, is staring at a tall wall of books. He reaches out to pick up a dusty rendition of Moby Dick, carefully cracking it open to the first few pages to check the publication date, brow scrunching as he reads. You go to peer over his arm to check as well, when something catches the corner of your eye. You let go of his hand to inspect.

A bassinet. Dark wood, surface polished to a faint sheen, with intricate little waves engraved on the sides, like the ocean’s misty outreach had come all the way into the shop and placed this here for you to see. 

You weren’t exactly sure when this now familiar ache had started; this deep, internal desire felt in your stomach for a little hand to be gripped around your pointer and for tiny onesies to fill your laundry basket, but you’re sure, with every fiber of your being, that you want it to be there.

“Spence,” you say softly, voice jarring in the otherwise stillness of the shop. “Come look.” He carefully closes the book and puts it back where it was and pads over, looking down at the bassinet. His eyebrows raise slightly.

“Wow. It looks like it was made in the 80s, maybe even earlier. You won’t find any level of detailing more recently than that, it’s too labor intensive for modern production methods. Good find.”

“I know. Should we get it?” you ask, biting a smile. He quickly meets your eyes, brow raising slightly.

“Do you want to?” he asks, voice even.

“I mean, I just think it’s really cute, with the waves and stuff.” you say bashfully, nudging it with your toe so it rocks back and forth. Spencer swallows, adam's apple bobbing.

“Yeah, I just…” Spencer hesitates. “I don't think we’d be able to bring it on the jet. It would probably snap in half if we held it in the wrong way,” he says, making your brain race even though he hasn’t said a single thing that should cause it to do so.

“Oh.”

You blink.

“No, yeah, you’re totally right. It’s too inconvenient. You should get that copy of Moby Dick instead. That edition looked cool, with the forward explaining all the names,” you say gently, pushing a smile, nudging him back towards the shelf. He goes, shooting you one last glance as you move to observe a few clocks hanging on the wall.

Spencer doesn’t reach for your hand again when he comes back.

…

The house is quiet when you arrive back home, hours later. Spencer sets his bag down by the door, and yours goes next to his to be dealt with later.

Exhaustion from the case is heavy in your limbs; the long flight and the sleepless nights are seeping into your bones, but Spencer seems perfectly intent upon kissing it better. You rest your forehead on his chest, exhaling softly, contentedly, as he presses kiss after kiss into your hair. He gently rests his hands on your waist and pushes you against the door– not as an act of dominance, like if someone were viewing you two from afar might assume, but one of simple convenience.

His hand reaches up to tilt your chin to the position he wants. Before leaning in to your neck, he pauses. 

“Are you sure you don’t just want to go to bed?” he asks. “You didn't sleep last night.” You shake your head, giving his cheek a small peck of your own.

“It’s one of those tireds where I can’t even think about sleep ever again.” 

A small smile grows on his face.

“I bet I can change that,” Spencer offers, knuckles skimming over your waist. You smile and let him tug you upstairs to your room and guide your hips to sit on the bed. His hand cups the side of your jaw, as always, lips moving to press against yours in a soft, affectionate display of his adoration. His other hand moves to your waist, squeezing, and you shiver a little in response, making him hum gently. 

His hands go underneath the hem of your top. “Okay?” he asks. You nod, lifting your arms to help. His eyes take their time tracing over you, but never in a way that couldn't be defined as sweet. His hand leaves your cheek and goes to the bedside table, sliding open the drawer. It draws toward the front left corner, as it always does, when it pauses. He turns to look at you, hesitating.

You, whose legs are now pulled up to your chest, chin resting on them. You stare at the yellow light of the lamp you and Spencer picked out months ago reflecting against those countless little squares of foil. 

Your lips are drawn inwards, between your teeth, unable to help your mind from racing to other realities, ones where every detail is the very same, except Spencer chose not to open that drawer tonight. 

…

Spencer explained the basis of quantum immortality to you a long time ago, in the early stages of your relationship, at a time so late in the night where a regular person would never be able to form coherent thoughts, let alone thoughts like these.

You were slumped over the kitchen island, peering at him as he wandered around, silently marveling at the preciousness of your boyfriend the world seemed to take for granted as he tried to get you to understand how cool this concept was.

“There’s also an interpretation of quantum mechanics proposed by a physicist named Hugh Everett which involves a ‘many worlds’ concept: essentially, it suggests that every possible outcome of an event creates its own branch of reality, meaning an infinite number of parallel worlds exist, each containing a version of events where everything that can happen, does happen,” he starts, widening his eyes for dramatic effect. “So quantum immortality is rooted in the concept that when we die in one timeline, we essentially just move on to the next one where every detail is the same except… well, you don’t die.”

He went on to emphatically talk about some guy’s cat in a box, but how this time, in a thought experiment that demonstrates this theory of immortality, you’re the cat.

You had pretty much lost him when he got to that part.

…

You blink, shoving the memory from your mind. 

“You’re staring,” you point out quietly.

“You’re pretty,” Spencer responds. He sits next to you on the bed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You watch as his other hand fiddles with the condom he grabbed, running his thumb over the edges of the wrapper. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he says, “Did I do something?” You shake your head softly. 

“Mm-mm.”

“Really? Because we’ve been sitting in silence and you haven’t stopped staring at the condom in my hand for the past two minutes.”

You exhale quietly, internally screaming at yourself to just spit it out.

It’s never been easy, being an agent dating an agent. Sure, agreements have been made to not profile each other, but with so many years of experience, small observations and connections about your partner’s nature are an automatic practice. You know that Spencer takes 3 sugars in his coffee just as well as you know he says your name more frequently and shortens his sentences when scared, almost like he tries to instead convey the appearance he’s mad.

You also know very well that you and Spencer have both been consciously avoiding this conversation like the plague, especially since his homecoming. 

You gnaw at your lip, trying to think of something to say, but your mind can only come up with freaky images of cats that are simultaneously alive and dead until observed.

“`M sorry, I was just thinking. Lost in my mind.”

“Thinking about what?”

Relationships that are simultaneously kept and broken until a certain conversation is had.

“Um. Quantum immortality. Who’s that guy? Hugh Jackman?”

Spencer straightens, eyebrows raising a little. “Hugh Everett,” he supplies. His tone is gentle, coaxing. “You’ve been thinking about that? I told you about him months ago.”

He stands as you quietly think of a response, grabbing a hoodie from the closet to tug over your bare torso, letting his hand gently cradle the back of your head after doing so.

“Yeah. I did a little more reading on it. It’s kind of a nice thought I keep going back to. Obviously really, really scary when you think about it for too long. But nice in the sense that there’s probably a version of us out there somewhere where…” you trail off, suddenly extremely aware of the weight of your words. 

He glances down to the condom he left on the comforter.

The thick silence that follows feels like it stretches across a thousand timelines, each one probably also filled with countless what-ifs and unspoken words and really bad communication, and at the very root of all of it, fear. That deep, gaping hole in both of your souls.

When Spencer finally looks at you, his eyes are so deep it takes your breath away. So deep that it jars you into just saying it.

“Spencer,” you begin, voice so quiet. “Do you still want kids?”

You find yourself shooting up a silent prayer to whoever is out there looking out for you– God or Isaac Newton or Hugh Everett or Jason Gideon: 

Pleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyes.

When he doesn’t answer right away, you continue– a habit probably picked up from the person standing right in front of you. “I just feel like there was a time where we were almost talking about it, but then it… went away.”

He reaches out to gently take the condom you were now fiddling with and sets it back in the drawer, his hand resting on the edge of the table as if grounding himself. His face is soft, almost glowing in the dim yellow light.

“I know,” he starts, voice crackling at the edges.

You stay dead silent.

“I didn’t mean for it to go away,” Spencer says, the crack in his voice causing you to glance up and see his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

You nod, shakily, though the perpetual ache in your stomach is sharper now, more like it’s a knife stabbing you through the gut.

“I get it,” you say, even though part of you doesn’t want to. “You don’t need to be sorry.” You can’t even bring yourself to think of the implications of what he just said– all you know is that there is something fundamentally different between you and Spencer that wasn’t there before.

“It’s not that I don’t want it. I do. You know I do. But I can’t. Not now.”

You reach out your hand for him to take.

“Spencer,” you whisper. “It’s okay. Really. We don’t have to talk about it any more.”

His lips press into a thin line, and you can tell he doesn’t believe you. Clearly. It wasn’t a statement said to be believed. There was nothing okay, at all, but this isn’t a fight- there’s nothing to fight about. There's just a quiet understanding. He nods, finally, and steps back. “We should get some sleep,” he says, his voice almost too soft to hear.

You watch as he pulls back the covers and slides into bed, still in his work clothes, leaving just enough space for you beside him. After a moment you curl up next to him because, despite everything, doing the alternative would be so much worse.

Spencer's arms wrap around you, his breath warm against the nape of your neck, and you close your eyes and let the silence settle over you both, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your back. Something you would have given anything to have not so long ago.

[myownwholewildworld]

a man called joel (part 1)

↪ a "a man called otto" inspired fic ― jackson!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist | AO3 summary: joel has lost everyone he held dear: sarah, tess, ellie. he's truly had enough of this life, given up to the point where he's decided to end his own suffering. that is until you move in next door and slowly worm your way into his life... author's note: where do i even start... this mini-series is gonna be angsty, guys. please heed the tags/warnings below as we are diving into the mentality of a man who's done with life. if this is triggering for you, please don't read and take care of yourself. if you like what you read, please consider interacting with this post! love you all <3 tags/warnings: 18+, mdni. your daily dose of angst as prescribed by the doctors. topics of death/murder and losing a child. suicide attempt. dual pov. reader is female, has hair. no use of y/n. joel is 61 and reader in her 40s. wordcount: ~4.4k. divider by @\saradika-graphics

Joel thought he knew loneliness.

After losing Sarah, he defeatedly greeted it.

When Tommy disappeared from Boston, he reluctantly welcomed it.

With the loss of Tess, he wholly surrendered to it.

And when Ellie turned away from him, it completely wrecked him.

It didn’t matter how many times Tommy reassured him that everything was going to be okay. That Ellie would only need time to understand, time to accept.

But time was a weird thing. It stretched like an elastic band, dragging out for what seemed to be an eternity, only to snap back to its original resting position. It was like all the time had passed and none had at once.

Time wasn’t going to fix this. Time wasn’t going to bring back everyone he’d lost. All the reasons that kept him bound to this earthly plane.

While he still had Tommy, Maria and his nephew… it was a cruel reminder of the life he once had. One that seemed too far away―a previous lifetime. One that, for a split second, Joel thought could have again with Ellie, mend the mistakes of his past, have another chance at parenthood.

And then as soon as it came, it was gone.

The gaping hole in his chest had only gotten bigger, grown like a tumour that was only spreading to the confines of his mind. Solitude was a cancer, one that had stolen all joy away from living. It swallowed him whole, chewed him. It grinded on his bones, eroding them away, until his bare carcass was nothing more than a reminder of who he once was. Who he once had.

Sat on the bench of his lonely, frozen porch, Joel returned his attention to the yellowing pages of the book Maria had lent him.

“Alone, abandoned by his premonitions, fleeing the chill that was to accompany him until death, he sought a last refuge in Macondo in the warmth of his oldest memories.”

One Hundred Years of Solitude felt fitting. Like a silent joke thrown haphazardly his way. Joel wondered if the choice had been intentional, if his unconscious mind had seen the title and thought, “sounds ‘bout right.”

He often found himself seeking that same warmth in his memories of the past, just like Colonel Buendía. Only now they turned cold, hazy with mixed emotions, painful. They didn’t bring him joy anymore, a reminder of his failures as a father.

Twice, to add insult to injury.

Pouting, he looked up, just in time to see Tommy walking besides a woman he’d not seen before.

“It’s not much, I’m afraid, but it’s yours,” his brother said nonchalant, pointing to a house in blatant disrepair.

You looked… torn. Devastated. As if life’s weight was too big to bear. Too heavy to withstand. The tired frown pinching your brows emphasized your ethereal features, puffs of cold air clouding in front of your mouth.

You replied something he quite didn’t catch, watching from a distance.

Always from a distance, like the outsider he was, even after all these years. Joel felt like he didn’t belong, despite Tommy’s efforts. His brother had his own family to tend to, his own worries. His own dreams.

His? His were gone, buried with the love he didn’t know he had, didn’t know how to deal with.

There was really no point in this anymore. A nuance, that was what he had become. A reminder to his brother of their dark past, their dark actions―ones the younger Miller wanted to move on from. Ones the older one gripped too tight to his chest.

His inner light was slowly dwindling, dying out. And he had no more strength to keep it alive. No purpose either.

He’d end it tonight. Wouldn’t postpone it any longer.

“That’s my brother, Joel. He lives across the street, can help you with anything you need,” Tommy offered, waving a gloved hand at him.

Joel lifted his gaze off the book again, his heavy sight falling on your exhausted face.

A brief, fleeting smile curled your lips―so fast he thought he’d imagined it. A ray of sunshine in a downcast day. A torchlight in the darkest of nights. A tiny crack on the ceiling of a pitch black cave.

How weird.

“Hi, Joel,” you muttered, half shy, half wary, from behind the bulky scarf around your neck, a sheathed hand bashfully waving at him too.

He hmphed in reply, the words hitching in the back of his throat. You looked as out of place as he felt, and perhaps that was what drew his attention.

The way you held back, half hiding behind Tommy’s back, trying to make yourself as small as possible. As if your trust was first to be earned, not to be given out freely. The way your wavering smile crumbled off your lips when he didn’t return it.

Joel felt like a dickhead. But composing a smile was a herculean task―it drained him. It even hurt; the corners of his chapped, cold-bitten lips too tense to undo the flat line his mouth had fallen into for the past couple of years. Smiling felt like a mask toppling, cracks fragmenting his weathered skin. There was a time when it was easy, how a smirk would curve his lips, especially when he saw Sarah in the little things Ellie did.

But that was no more. Not when Ellie wouldn’t even look at him, talk to him nor acknowledge his presence in the same room. Not when he would see his brother looking at his son with adoration. His broken heart was slowly rotting away, festering, spreading to his other organs―decay taking over.

“Joel?” Tommy almost snarled at him, bringing him back to earth.

“Hm?”

“Move your ass over here right now. Introduce yourself properly!” his little brother scolded him, teeth gritting, and Joel couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

With a heavy sigh and cracking knees, Joel stood up, book tucked under his elbow as he came down the few steps of his porch. The white blanket covering the street was mostly undisturbed except for the few footprints Tommy and you had left behind. He liked the quietness of this road.

“Sorry,” he grumbled, extending his hand towards you. “Joel Miller.”

You looked up at him through your lush eyelashes, peeking through the thick wool of your scarf, and blinked.

“Oh. Nice to meet you, Joel,” you husked, offering him your name. He repeated it under his breath, testing how it rolled off his tongue.

Your gloved hand squeezed his gently, a soft, ephemeral caress that was gone before he could register it.

“Joel and I were construction workers prior to the outbreak. If you need help, bet Joel will be more than willing to lend a hand, right, brother?” Tommy palmed his shoulder in jest, an easy smile on his face.

“Oh, did you? Those are some helpful skills. I used to run the flower shop within my family’s garden center. Don’t think that will help much around here,” you joked, a low chuckle bubbling up your throat, softening your tired expression.

“All skills are useful,” Joel chipped in, talking before thinking. “Could do with bringing more life to the streets of Jackson during spring. ‘S depressing enough.”

Perhaps it was just how the light reflected off the snow, a myriad of sparkles dancing around in the air under the sunlight, but your eyes came alive, glistening under the bright rays.

“Oh, yeah. I’d love to help with that. We could start a seed bank, so we can plan ahead, decide what we want to grow,” you daydreamed out loud.

“Sounds great to me. Will speak to Maria, see if she likes the idea,” Tommy cheerfully added, walking towards the front porch of your new, dilapidated property. “Come, I’ll show you around.”

Joel grunted in goodbye, retracing the steps back to the bench while you and Tommy disappeared through the front door of the property opposite his.

Untucking the book, he searched for the dog-eared page and resumed his reading.

“[…] Colonel Aureliano Buendía scratched for many hours trying to break the hard shell of his solitude.”

Joel lost himself in the world Gabriel García Márquez had created. A world that profoundly resonated with him, with his experiences. Just like the Buendía family, he too felt doomed to spending the rest of his life in solitude. He’d already done it for the last twenty odd years, and it had been exhausting.

But soon he could finally rest.

“Gotta be nicer to newcomers, brother,” Tommy interrupted, startling Joel, walking up to him. “We have to make them feel part of the Jackson family. So I’d appreciate it if you were a bit more… don’t know, open to talk? Otherwise, you’re gonna scare them away.”

“Mhm. Yeah. ‘M trying, little brother,” Joel closed the book again, slightly frustrated with being interrupted.

Tommy sat down besides him, arms hugging the back of the bench. “Wouldn’t kill you if you made friends here, y’know? Open up a bit so you’re not so alone. How’s therapy going?”

Therapy wasn’t helping. At all. Seeing his mistakes in a different light had only made everything worse for him. Joel felt more broken than before he started going to these mandatory sessions Maria had ordered so “he would not be a danger to himself” ― her words, not his.

“‘S going,” was his succinct answer.

Tommy huffed and puffed, rolling his eyes and smacking his knees before getting up.

“You’re like a goddamn brick wall, Joel. One of these days you’re gonna have to open up or everything you’re holding too close to your chest will kill ya,” Tommy shook his head, putting on the hoodie of his winter jacket. “See you tonight at dinner. Be there at seven sharp, you know Maria hates it when you’re late.”

“Hmm. Sure. See ya,” Joel husked, watching his brother merge with the white veil falling from the sky.

Joel wanted to say something else; express his love, perhaps. But couldn’t, the words just got stuck to the back of his throat and wouldn’t come out. What a shitty farewell that was, considering it was the last time he would see Tommy. That Tommy would see him alive.

He’d hoped his little brother would forgive him. For everything.

In the raw solitude of his home, Joel got off the chair he was standing on, testing the tension of the raffia rope one last time. The hook he’d drilled to the ceiling seemed strong enough to hold his weight—at least for long enough.

He stared at it for an eternity. Not with doubt—he’d made up his mind—but with memories swarming his mind. The noose swayed gently in the air above his head, almost as if it was speaking to him, telling him to get it over with.

Joel was done. He felt like an empty carcass moved solely by muscle memory. Get up early, go on patrol, have some breakfast in the community hall. He’d find himself, more often than not, searching the room for Ellie. Not because he thought he could mend the mistakes that made them drift apart, but because he needed the reassurance that she was okay. Okay without him. Okay with the life she was living—the one he’d selfishly chosen for her.

It pained him. His heart would go rampant in his chest, only to quiet down to a wheezing murmur whenever Ellie would look his way with disdain. With a hate he could no longer bear. A hate, he first thought, he could embrace and live with.

And despite the outcome, he would not have made a different choice that day at the hospital. Because he would rather have her as a stranger in his life than surviving a world where he lost another child.

It wasn’t time that did it. He still abode by those words—would do to his dying breath, on his dying bed. Ellie had healed a wound that had been festering and bleeding for far too long, stitched it up with fragile sutures. An open wound he thought would remain with him for as long as he lived. An open wound that now was cracking again, seeping into his heart and poisoning his blood, his exhausted mind.

Like a disease it was consuming him, to the point Joel had convinced himself he wasn’t needed anymore. His job—whatever that had been—was done. Ellie was safe, her secret buried with the corpses he’d left behind in the Firefly’s medical compound. She wouldn’t miss him; he was as sure as the sun would rise tomorrow.

Ellie was better off without him. Without the constant reminder his presence would bring her.

He was dispensable now, his purpose fulfilled. Joel was adamant that the few people close to him—people he could count on one hand and would still have fingers to spare—would not suffer with his prompt, albeit thought-out, departure. This venomous thinking had him believe that, in any case, he would be doing them a favour. Who wanted to be around an old grumpy man that would darken the mood of a room with his mere presence?

Tommy would understand, he told himself countless of times. His brother was a happy family man, with a toddler and a loving woman by his side. The last thing he needed was to worry about the bastard who wrecked his own moral compass in the name of survival.

His brother would grieve him, sure, but he would eventually be glad to be rid of the dead weight of him. Tommy had a family to take care of, one Joel didn’t see himself a part of anymore. How the younger Miller had been able to turn his life around and find joy in this godforsaken planet was beyond Joel’s understanding.

Joel was happy for Tommy, he really was. But witnessing his brother’s joy while he spiralled down into his own personal hell was eating away at his corroded mind. Eating him alive.

Selfish bastard. He deserved what he got—or, rather, what he didn’t get. Only a monster would envy his own brother’s bliss. Only a lunatic would crave a fleeting memory like a thirsty man chasing after a mirage. Only a fool would seek unwarranted forgiveness.

And Joel Miller was no fool. He hadn’t asked for Ellie’s absolution not because he was proud, but because he knew himself unworthy of it. Kissed by Death herself, everything he touched surely died, like a corrupt Midas cradling his gold. He’d learnt the hard way now—wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Joel blinked, blurry vision slightly clearing as his eyes focused on the noose again.

This was the right choice. And it had been easier to make than what he expected. Once the idea of ending his own life wormed its way through his brain and took deep root, Joel even found it comforting. Knowing that he could finally rest—become one with the stardust bathing this decaying universe—was strangely soothing.

There was nothing nor no one left in this worldly plane for him. Joel had nothing else to give, nothing else to live for besides for himself. And that was not a good enough reason to keep him bound to the ground.

He was done. Tired and done.

Joel took one last look around, his misty eyes falling on the dresser by the window.

A picture of baby Sarah smiled back at him, her chubby hands raised in the air, searching for him while he crouched down in front of her. His own arms reaching out to grab her as Sarah took her first steps. Her curly hair framed her sweet little face, her orbs sparkling in the dim light of their Austin home. He could remember that exact moment in time as if it was yesterday.

A picture of Ellie and himself when they settled back in Jackson after the hospital fiasco. It was a candid photo where neither of them was aware of it being taken, one of the first times he attempted to show Ellie how to play guitar. Joel had an amused look in his eyes, while Ellie was visibly pouting, arms folded in frustration.

He shuffled the pictures, thumbs gently stroking the frames, and positioned them right in front of where he’d hang himself. Their faces the last thing he would see—fitting yet soul-crushing.

With a resolution he’d not felt in years, Joel turned on his heels and faced his demons.

Standing up on the chair, his fingertips traced the O-shaped rope one last time before threading his head through the hole. A weary sigh later, he booted the chair beneath his feet and his heavy weight pulled him downwards.

The rope tightened around his neck, tense like a coil ready to snap. His throat collapsed on itself, legs instinctually kicking, and Joel had to fight his own survival instinct to let nature take its course, surrender to it. But even then, his eyes were fixed on the picture frames on top of the dresser.

His mind slowly drifted away, eyes shutting, as he gasped for air that didn’t reach his lungs.

No. No, no, no.

Sh, shh. Sh… Okay. You’re okay, you’re okay. Move your hand, baby. Move your hand.

I know, baby. I know, I know, I know, I know. I know it hurts. Come on, baby.

You’re okay. You’re okay. I know, I know, I know, I know, baby, I know. I know. I know this hurts. You’re gonna be okay, alright?

Baby, baby. Baby, listen to me. I gotta get you up, okay? I gotta get you up, alright? Come on. You—Come on. I know, baby. I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know. I KNOW!

TOMMY, HELP ME!

“Sarah, no!” Joel choked and gagged, lips turning blue and tears streaming down the crows’ feet kissing the corner of his eyes.

His bloodshot eyes cracked open in a last attempt to focus on the pictures. But instead of the photographs he’d carefully arranged, Joel saw something else.

Kneeling in front of him was his daughter, touching the tip of his boot with trembling hands. As beautiful and young as the day she died—as if no time had passed. As if she had been with him all this time. Tears clouding her eyes, she mouthed a prayer for him to stop—one that didn’t quite leave her lips, but loud enough for Joel to hear.

It’s okay, baby girl. I’m finally coming with you. Can’t wait to see you again, he thought as the last remnants of his consciousness slipped away like a bird in flight.

His muscles stiffened, the jerking of his limbs slowly dying out. His eyes rolled back, mind numb and gone.

With his last breath, his face suddenly relaxed, mouth slightly agape as he welcomed Death like an equal.

You swore.

He was lost to the darkness, but there was no light to look for. Liars.

“[…] and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since time immemorial and forever more, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.”

His feet dangled gently in the void of his living room for a minute, the quietness of the space ethereal as Death claimed him for her ranks.

Suddenly, the hook to which the noose was tied dented the ceiling, the plasterboard giving way and the hook becoming loose, breaking off.

Joel fell to the floor like a dead weight, the tangled mess still hugging his neck.

And then, as if orchestrated by the universe, someone knocked at the door.

You’d lost your whole group, the ones you had stuck to for the last twenty-four years of the apocalypse. One by one, they’d left you. Some were gone to the virus, others at humanity’s cruel hands. Either way, you were alone. Stumbled across Jackson by sheer luck, exhausted and drained.

When Tommy and his group had approached you rather cautiously, you assumed the worst. But even that thought—that your life could come to an end, just like everybody else’s—was somehow a relief.

Instead, he greeted you, introduced himself and his companions. Offered water, a bite to eat. Tommy even asked if you were alone and when you shrugged in response, he invited you to join them.

At first, you had been wary, but the moment you crossed the gates of the palisade and saw the town brimming with life, the worry and doubt fell off your shoulders a bit.

And now here you were, inside a house that now was almost a home. It would need some repairs, probably a lick of paint if you could find any, but overall a sturdy ceiling above your head. You had seen other towns in the last two decades, but every oasis of civilisation you had found ended up crumbling under either the yoke of bad men or the infected.

You wondered how long it would take for this place to come to the same demise. Experience told you this would eventually fall, but it would do you no good to ruminate on the future. Whatever had to happen, simply would.

Despite the house being unoccupied, it had been used as storage. You had spent the last couple of hours sorting stuff into piles, deciding what would be useful and what could go to another home. By the end of it, you were sweating and in need of some cold air to clear your mind.

Walking outside with your coat on, you took a look at the weeds growing in the front yard, peeking through the blanket of snow. Perhaps you could start with your garden first, test out your rusty skills before you committed to something bigger.

You were crouching down by what you thought was a flowerbed when a brief motion caught your attention. Frowning, you looked up and across the street. Tommy’s brother’s house was right in front of yours, something swaying behind the drawn curtains of the living room.

Tilting your head, you paid more attention, stilling in place. You couldn’t make out what was happening behind closed quarters, but you thought it looked like the man called Joel was perched on a ladder. Perhaps changing a lightbulb?

You watched him from a distance, mind drifting back to when Tommy forced his brother to introduce himself. The brotherly bond had made you crack a smile—a memory coming back—Joel’s reluctance almost endearing. He’d not been rude with you, for you understood his uneasiness around strangers.

You were about to resume your inspection of the flowerbed, when you saw a commotion unravelling behind the curtains. It looked like Joel had suddenly fallen to the floor. Perhaps he’d lost his footing on the ladder?

Jumping to your feet, you wondered what to do. He was probably okay, maybe just a concussion and a scratch, but what if he wasn’t? Judging by his looks and grumpy demeanour, you hazarded Joel was in his late fifties. Although he seemed to be in good shape, a bad fall could render anyone unconscious.

Despite not knowing him, moved by your caring nature, you ran towards his house, your coat almost catching on the Miller mailbox. Climbed up the steps of his porch and banged the door.

“Joel?” you asked once you stopped, remaining quiet.

No answer. So you knocked again.

“Hey, Joel?” you insisted, ear flat against the door.

Nothing.

“Damn,” you uttered, walking to the living room’s window.

The curtains, although not opaque, didn’t let you see much through them. You could barely make out the body of a man curled on the floor.

Your heart began racing when you realised he wasn’t moving at all. Panicky, you tapped the window’s glass and shouted his name again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted, running to the front door again in a frenzy. Tested the handle, but didn’t budge. “Joel!”

You tried for a few more minutes while you considered running back to the community hall for Tommy. Or maybe break the window yourself—get in and help him however you could.

Luckily, you didn’t need to. The door cracked open, and you caught Joel’s profile in the gloom of his home.

“What do you want?” he husked, voice gravelly, hoarse.

His blunt acrimony took you aback for an instant, but the look in his eyes, red and glassy even in the darkness, urged to check in on him.

“I— Well. Uhm,” you stuttered, gathering your thoughts. You didn’t want to come across as nosey, just a caring neighbour. “I was in my front yard and thought I saw you falling from a ladder or something… And when I came over and you didn’t open, I did peek through the window… And you were…” you trailed off, the man’s deep scowl frightening.

“I’m fine,” he replied succinctly before clearing his throat.

The door had swung open a bit more, Joel’s face becoming clearer now. He was all rugged and weathered, and you wondered if the apocalypse had taken a fatal toll on him. Joel Miller looked like a man tiptoeing on the edge of the world, tiredness smeared across his features, creasing the skin around his eyes.

Your gaze dropped, the scarlet skin on his neck distracting. The redness was mutating, changing colour ever so slightly—it was bruising.

Unwittingly, your hand reached up to his face. But before you could stop yourself from being awkward with a stranger, Joel took a step back. As if the thought of your touch repulsed him, as if he could not bear the thought of a friendly, caring caress.

A bit late you realised you’d been so out of line, your hand immediately dropping to your side.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to— Shit. I just… your neck. What happened to your neck?” you mumbled, breathless.

Although his expression didn’t falter, his eyes did for him. They were so expressive, windows to a broken soul. They carried a pain you quite didn’t understand, but it was palpable and profound. It leached through his eyes, and you wondered what had happened to him to be this shattered. To be this… alone.

“It’s none of your damn business,” he barked a low growl. “Leave me alone. I don’t need you snooping around my house like I’m some goddamn old man in need of a carer. I don’t need anyone. Get off my porch and fuck off.”

“But that’s not—”

Your retort died off in your mouth as Joel closed the door right in your face, rather dramatically.

While the exchange should have at least irritated you, you only felt worried.

Joel wasn’t okay. You just knew he wasn’t, and this instinct of yours had never failed you. He didn’t need anyone—he needed help.

taglist: @wow-life-love4 @denisanoemi @wencontre @ccmoonshine @mystickittytaco @peelieblue @guelyury @marisemonteiroo @fangirlcentral1 @layaispunk @brittmb115 @senhoritamayblog @joelmillerisapunk @eff4freddie @missadangel @moel-jiller @sunnytuliptime @queenofdisaster12 @lizzie-cakes @pedrofan @ladywraith

[izzih22]

Nowhere But Here

(One shot)

The following is completely fictional. Thanks for reading.

(Paige’s POV)

The plane rumbled gently beneath us as we cruised somewhere over the middle of the country, the quiet hum of the engines mixing with the occasional ding of a flight attendant call button. Most of the team was asleep by now, sprawled across their seats or curled against the windows, but Azzi and I were still awake—barely.

She was slumped against me, her head tucked beneath my chin, the scent of her shampoo still fresh from our post-game showers. My arm was wrapped loosely around her, fingers tracing absentminded circles against the fabric of her hoodie. The blanket draped over us barely did anything against the cool cabin air, but she was warm against me, always warm.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” I murmured, shifting slightly to press my cheek against the top of her head.

She huffed, barely lifting her head. “So are you.”

“Yeah, but I have an excuse.”

Azzi tilted her head just enough to look up at me, her eyes heavy with sleep but still full of that teasing light I loved. “And what’s that?”

“I have to keep watch,” I said, grinning. “Make sure no one tries to steal my girlfriend in her sleep.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away. “I think I’m safe, P.”

“You say that, but I saw how that guy at the airport looked at you.” I tightened my grip around her for dramatic effect, earning a quiet laugh.

“Pretty sure he was looking at you, Bueckers.”

I scoffed. “Please. I was too busy making sure you didn’t get lost in the food court to notice.”

Azzi groaned, burying her face back in my shoulder. “I wasn’t lost. I was weighing my options.”

“Ten minutes, Azzi. Ten. You stood there staring at menus like you were choosing your last meal.”

“I take food very seriously.”

I smirked. “I know. It’s one of the reasons I love you.”

Her breath caught for just a second, and I felt her fingers curl slightly where they rested against my stomach. I loved that—how even after all this time, even after everything, I could still catch her off guard.

“You’re annoying,” she mumbled, but I could hear the smile in her voice.

“And you love it.”

She sighed, dramatic and drawn out. “Unfortunately.”

I chuckled, shifting again to get more comfortable. She didn’t protest, just molded against me like she belonged there. Which she did.

After a few minutes of silence, I felt her start to relax completely, her breathing evening out, the weight of exhaustion finally pulling her under.

“Paige?” she whispered, barely audible over the hum of the plane.

“Yeah, baby?”

She hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Missed you.”

I closed my eyes, my grip tightening just a little. “I’m right here.”

She hummed in response, the last thing she did before finally drifting off.

I stayed awake a little longer, holding her, letting the steady rhythm of her breathing guide my own. There were still a few hours left in the flight, a few more hours before we had to step back into the world. But right now, none of that mattered.

Because right now, in the quiet, in the dark, with Azzi asleep in my arms—this was all I needed.

The rhythmic motion of the plane was soothing, like a lullaby that wrapped around us both. I could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath my hand, the warmth of her body against mine keeping me tethered to the present. It was funny how something so simple, so quiet, could feel like the safest place in the world.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself, thinking back on how we’d gotten here—how this bond had started when we were just kids, barely old enough to know what we were doing. But even back then, there was something that felt like destiny. I could feel the pull toward her then, just like I did now.

The way we’d been friends first, learning to laugh at the same jokes, sharing our dreams, our hopes, our fears. Then slowly, imperceptibly, something had shifted. That feeling of safety, of comfort, had deepened, and before either of us knew it, we weren’t just two best friends who could talk about anything. We were two people who had found a home in each other.

And now, years later, here we were—on a flight across the country, surrounded by teammates and the hum of an airplane, and yet all I could focus on was her.

She stirred slightly, and I tightened my arm around her instinctively. “You okay?” I asked softly, glancing down at her.

She didn’t open her eyes, but I felt her lips curve into a smile against my chest. “I’m perfect, P.”

I kissed the top of her head, the movement so natural I didn’t even think about it. “Good.”

I let my gaze drift to the window for a moment, watching the dark sky outside. The stars were barely visible through the thin clouds, but I didn’t need them to know that this moment was everything I wanted. Everything I needed.

Azzi’s fingers found mine again, interlacing with mine in that familiar way that had become a symbol of us—together, always. There was no need for words now. Just the simple contact, the quiet reassurance of her presence, and the knowledge that no matter what came next, we had each other.

“Can we stay here forever?” she asked after a while, her voice barely a whisper.

The question hung in the air, but it didn’t need an answer. Because right now, this was perfect. I didn’t need forever. I only needed this—this quiet moment with Azzi, where the world was a little smaller, a little softer, and all that mattered was that we were together.

I tightened my hold on her once more, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’d stay here with you forever, if I could.”

And for a while, we were just two souls on a plane, drifting through the night, with the rest of the world waiting just beyond the windows. But in this moment, it didn’t matter. Because we had everything we needed, and nothing else could touch us.

Not now. Not ever.

[kyxhiin]

Captain Marvel gets Road rage (well space rage?)

Hi guys, I know I said I'll be taking a break. But with all these idea's I just can't, also my mood has improved quite a bit from my mom's words. And also I catcher a really bad cold today and didn't have school suppressing my ideas! I know it's only been a day but I've made the decision to post but not as much as I used to. So I'll just continue on with the post!

Captain Marvel aka Billy gets intense rage from small things, rather then really big things. So he tweaks out alot on the smaller possible things. (WonderJanga post ref.)

And so by that the JL has never caught onto him. So they all thought it would've been a great idea to let Cap drive the space ship during a particularly rough traffic. (Don't know how you get traffic in space but so on forth.) He's a great guy! He teaches the Young justice members how to ride the ship! And he has mentioned more than once of him owning a plane. So the JL assumed his civilian job was a pilot. I mean, what could go wrong?

Batman, catching up on some important things as he sits in the Co-pilot seat. Robin right beside him reading an animal encyclopedia. Captain Marvel with his wide smile on the traffic waiting for whatever mess happened to be disputed.

Broodman notices alot of time has passed, when he checked the clock. A heckling 5 hours have passed and they still haven't moved. He raised his head to see how Captain was holding up.

Oddly enough.. He still had that big old smile, but something. Something was wrong, the normal smile who would butter anybody up has been replaced by an uncomfortably forced and tired one. His once excited face, has become pink-ish with pent up something he assumed? And he was just so sure that there was this big pulsing vein on Marvel's forehead.

Batman: Captain. Are you alright? You seek quite drained.

Captain Marvel in a really passive aggressively annoyed voice: Oh Haha? Really? I'm fine Mr.Batman. I'm totally fine!

Robin: Tt you're obviously lying. A flushed face, bulging stress veins, the way you grip the steering wheel. You're mad, even an idiot can decipher that.

Captain Marvel: ME? MAD HAHA NOOOOO...

Batman: Captain. You're clearly agitated, do you need a break?

Captain Marvel now losing it: ME??? A BREAK?? IT'S THESE FUGGLING IDIOTS WHO NEED A BREAK NOT ME? THESE SON OF A LEECHES BETTER MOVE BEFORE I FREAKING CRASH INTO THEM!

Captain Marvel pressing the accelerator flying over the other ships so fast that it caused a turbulence in the other area's of the ship, which included in everyone falling to their knees and wondering what the hell is going on.

Captain Marvel with a maniacal smile: HAHA THAT'S WHAT YOU GET YOU MOTHER FLIPPING BLEEPERS!

Batman, his hand reaching out to Marvel: Marvel, stop!

Captain Marvel, now realizing who he just did: Oh.. I'm so sorry Mr. Batman sir I really didn't mean to lose my temper like that. I'll do anything to make up for that..

Robin who's now staring directly at Cap' with a shocked expression: Wow..

When they all looked back to see where they were, to their luck. They were right next to the place where they were trying to go.

When Batman told the Justive League this they never believed him, for like the first time ever. He's now sure of it, cap hides his true self around everybody. But, he still managed to keep his no swearing policy intact right?

And Robin refused to back up Bruce's story, with a new found respect for the Captain. He let him pet Alfred the cat for 2 whole seconds.

[drchucktingle]

POUNDED BY DR. GLOBUS

wanted to post today about recent health journey of chuck. ALL STARTED at texas show when i began to feel tightness in throat. i have learned this is called GLOBUS which is a tingler character name if ive ever heard one. got through appearance and had blast but felt terrible

plane journey home was even worse. first thought i strained my voice, then tested for covid (negative) and then figured it was just some kind of virus. had running nose and hoarse and extreme pain behind face and MOST of all this golf ball throat

figured i would get better as viruses tend to go but I DID NOT. after a few weeks went to way of urgent care and they took one look and said you have EXTREME FORM OF ACID REFLUX called laryngopharyngeal reflux (also great tingler character name)

basically this is when your stomach acid comes all the way back up into your throat and erodes it. they immediately put me on medications name of pepcid plus tums plus gaviscon and on and on. was inhaling a dang pharmacy every morning

problem is, NO CHANGE. in fact it started getting worse. in addition to previous symptoms i now couldnt keep any food down. upset stomach all the time. could barely sleep. plus it is scary to have a sickness that gets WORSE over time like this

more doctor talks. i up doses of medication to combat sickness but does not seem to work. one night wake up and think 'dang i need to go to er my stomach is going to just melt or something' (keep in mind because i cant keep food down i am always hungry too).

i go to hospital and they say 'WHOA we need to intervene right now we are doing some tests and putting you on SERIOUS LIFE CHANGING MEDICINE. but here is catch to do the tests we need you to stop all your medication for 48 hours and it will be HECK but you gotta do it bud'

so i stop all medication in preparation for new SICK LIFE and suddenly… i start feeling better. not just a little but after weeks of this awful way i wake up in ONE DAY and feel fully cured. now heres twist: at the same time this was happening I started taking allergy medicine

you may already know where i am going with so i will just hit you with it. my INITIAL SICKNESS was just extreme seasonal allergies that required nothing more than claritin and flonase. however i was misdiagnosed with ACID REFLUX and medication was making my stomach a wasteland

the second i stopped taking acid reflux meds and started on allergy trot i was better almost instantly. today i feel HECKIN GREAT. (SIDE NOTE: after 4 years of chronic pain i am so thankful to not have some OTHER long term health trot to deal with. DANG)

so what is lesson here? first of all please do not think this is in ANY WAY anti-doctor rant or anti-medicine. my doctors were trying their best and made a mistake, they are just people. ALSO while acid reflux medicine made me sick, allergy meds made me better. i am SO fortunate

but what is REALLY fortunate is that chuck is covered under SWEET BARBARAS HEALTH CARE (she gets very good coverage under the frozen lake). most artist buckaroos, even WILDLY successful ones, do not have health care which is huge issue that should be talked on more.

point is EVERYONE should have healthcare. this whole adventure was bad, but it also only cost me 50 dollars. hundreds of thousands of other buckaroos would have to deal with this PLUS it would completely upend their life to cover medical expenses because of a SIMPLE MISTAKE

so that is my story, usually there is more of a lesson to these rants but this one is really just ‘dang what a trip.’ so grateful for my health and my way and the fact i can get simple allergy medicine over the counter. most of all THANKFUL FOR MY BODY it is such a treat to exist

thank you for reading and remember to advocate for yourself and your feelings both BODY and MIND at the doctor. listen to your trot and do not forget that LOVING YOURSELF AND THE SYSTEMS OF YOUR BODY proves love just as much as loving others. trot on buckaroos

[droopycoquette]

WAG Life || Lucy Bronze x Reader

Summary: Lucy’s obsessed with the idea of you being her WAG

Warnings: established relationship, smut, strap-on, lucy having a domestic kink

Word Count: 2.6k

|*|

The plane rocked back and forth due to turbulence as Lucy scrolled through her Instagram feed and her heart stopped when she saw her girlfriend. Instantly liking it, she thumbed through the photos of the recent post. It was mainly pictures of you at the women’s World Cup but she felt herself pause when she saw one; a photo of you cooking. She could feel herself heating up but it all came to a point when she read your caption: 

Living my best WAG life.

She had always liked the idea of you being her little wife in the stands cheering her on and not having to work for anything. Only taking care of her, never wanting for anything, and relying solely on her. It was enough to make Lucy combust. You had no idea what you were doing to her, playing right into her fantasy without even realizing it.

"Fuck," she mumbled to herself.

As she scrolled through your posts, she noticed that you had posted a lot more homemaking content. Pictures of you cooking, cleaning, or rearranging things. If she didn't know better, she would think you were doing these things on purpose.

"Lucy, we're touching down soon," Millie called.

"Okay," Lucy mutters, not taking her eyes off her phone, off of you.

Lucy's need to see you doubled. She couldn't wait to get to your shared apartment and just be with you. You were all she could think about when the plane touched down. You were all she could think about when she was driving to the apartment. And you were all she could think about as she walked up the stairs.

Her insides tingled as she approached the door, unlocking it quietly and entering the space. She could hear footsteps on the hardwood floors before she could see the person they belonged to.

"Lucy!"

"Darling!"

You flew into her arms without a second thought, forcing her to drop her luggage to be able to catch you. Lucy automatically brought her hands under your butt to support you, groaning when she realized you weren't wearing pants

"You're home," you sighed into her neck.

"Damn right, I am."

"I missed you," you mumbled into her skin.

"I missed you," Lucy grinned, making her way over to the kitchen counter. "You know what else I missed?"

She could feel you shake your head.

"Your kisses."

You brought your face out of her neck finally and looked at her.

"I missed kissing you," you confessed, bringing your lips closer to hers.

Lucy couldn't take it anymore, softly placing her lips onto yours. The kiss was sweet and gentle as if you both were afraid to break the other. Lucy softly set you on the counter, the cold marble against your bare skin causing you to shiver.

As the footballer breaks the kiss, she looks around the apartment.

The last time Lucy had been in the apartment, you both had just bought it. It was empty save for a TV, a sofa, and a queen bed in the shared room. Now, it looked completely different. It looked like a home.

"You've been working," Lucy gawks.

"Do you like it," you ask shyly. "I wanted you to come home to something nice. You've worked so har-

She cut you off as she connected your lips once more, not being able to be away from you for long. Lucy could feel her insides melting at your words. This is everything she ever wanted.

"Everything is perfect," Lucy whispered in between kisses, rubbing your bare thighs. "It's beautiful."

Lucy watched as you beamed at the praise, a smile gracing your features.

"I was about to get started on dinner," you began. "Is there anything specific you want?"

Lucy almost moans at your question, "No, anything you make will be good."

You nod, giving her one more peck before getting to work and shooing her off to put her luggage away.

When Lucy returns, she can't keep her eyes off of you. The raven-haired woman was forced to watch as you hummed and twirled around the kitchen, cooking for her. You were cooking for her. It was enough to drive her mad.

"Luce, do you want to help me," you ask with a smile.

"No. I enjoy watching you," Lucy says simply.

"Okay."

As she watched you it dawned on her, you were wearing her old kit, the number 2 and the name "Bronze" showing proudly on the back. You really did have no idea what you were doing. Completely out of touch with how much you were turning your girlfriend on. Lucy could feel herself growing wetter and wetter by the minute.

"I think I'm going to go take a shower, love."

"Okay, I think everything should be in the shower caddy on the side. And the towels are in the cupboard under the sink," you explain, turning around and wiping your hands on a towel.

Everything you were doing was doing something to Lucy and it kind of annoyed her. She needed you so bad.

"O-okay," she stuttered walking off to the bathroom.

As she undressed, Lucy couldn't help but continue to think about you. Your words, your actions, your touch, all of it made her want you more and more. She turned the water on and stepped under the warm spray, closing her eyes and letting out a deep sigh. It felt amazing to be home and with you again.

She can't help but replay the scene in her head. You were cooking for her, taking care of her. She couldn't believe how lucky she was to have you in her life. The steam filled up the bathroom as she lathered her body with soap. After a little bit, she hops out and quickly dresses in a sports bra and sweatpants.

She rounds the corner with her hands in her pockets and is greeted with a set table and you doing the dishes. She leans against the wall and watches you for a bit, nipping at her bottom lip and adjusting her glasses as she thinks. You hadn't noticed her yet, your attention focused on cleaning. So focused that you didn't notice her coming up behind you until you felt her hand around your waist and the other around your throat.

"Hello," you smile, the hand around your neck forcing you into an arch to face her.

"Hello," she smirked back, pecking your lips. "I was hoping you would join me in the shower."

"I'm sorry," you frown. "How about we take one tomorrow morning."

If you can walk, Lucy thought to herself.

"I love you being like this," Lucy sighs, releasing your neck and allowing you to turn and face her.

"Like what," you asked confused, loving the feeling of her arms around your waist.

"Like my little housewife," she sighs. "I love that you don't have to work and that you can just be home, taking care of me."

"I love doing it," you reply, wrapping your arms loosely around her neck.

After a beat of silence, you ask, "What are you thinking about?"

"You," Lucy whispers.

Her eyes stayed on yours as your breath hitched. You raised yourself up on your toes to shyly peck her lips, your hands loosely playing with strands of her hair Her hands trail from your waist to her shoulder blades.

"Jump."

You obey and wrap your legs around her waist, your lips automatically finding hers in a rough heated kiss. She devoured you, her tongue intermingling with yours as she did. She carried you to your shared bedroom, setting you down against the wall.

"What are you doing to me," Lucy asked, her accent thick.

You stared at her with doe eyes, confusion clouding them.

"Fuck, you've ruined me. I can't describe it. But, you've ruined me for anyone else."

You groan as she kisses your neck, her body pressed against yours firmly. Your moans only fueled her as she descended down to your core. Glancing up at you, she smirks as your brain begins to fizzle out, she can see it.

"What's got you so worked up, love," Lucy asks, her nose rubbing against your clothed slit. "Tell me."

"Fuck," you whimpered, your back pressing against the wall.

"I won't do anything until you tell me."

You gasp as her thumbs press against your hip bones, her hands holding the small of your back.

"Fuck," you whimpered. "I love being your housewife. It makes me feel really good."

Lucy moans into your thighs at your confession, her own thighs pressing together. Still kneeling, she raises herself up to kiss your stomach. Placing little pecks on your skin causing you to buck forward.

"Yeah? What else?"

"And, I love," you gasp as Lucy's tongue drags against your clothed core. "I love how you take care of me and how I don't have to think when you're around."

Lucy watched as you began to grind yourself onto her tongue, your hips shaking as your clit caught on the ridge of her wet muscle. She couldn't move as she watched in pure shock and awe. How were you so perfect? It was as if you were reading her mind.

Lucy's fingers hooked on your underwear as her eyes found yours. A smirk found its way onto her lips as your eyes quickly looked somewhere else, unable to handle the intensity. Cute.

Lucy slowly pulled your underwear down your legs, flinging them somewhere over her shoulder. You began to take your shirt off.

"No, love. Keep it on. Please keep it on," Lucy begged.

Your hands dropped the hem of the kit immediately.

"Love seeing you in this, baby," Lucy breathed, lifting one of your legs onto her shoulder. "Can't wait to fucking make you a Bronze."

You shuddered against her as her nose rubbed against your clit, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. Your hands moved to her hair, gripping it, keeping your girlfriend in place as her tongue lapped at your clit. You couldn't stop the sounds coming from your mouth, your head falling back against the wall.

You whimpered as your hips bucked up into her face. Lucy cooed at your embarrassment, smirking as you brought your hands up to your face.

You were the cutest little thing ever, your mouth open as you threw your head back against the wall. Lucy's fingers finally entered you, stroking your walls in a way that had your juices running down her arm.

"Look at that," Lucy groaned, lips still coated in you. "Did you need me that bad?"

"Please," you whimpered, hips bucking into her face.

"Please what," Lucy panted. "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you baby. But you have to tell me."

"Hm? I can't hear you, love. You're gonna have to speak up."

"Fuck me, please," you gasped, as Lucy tapped on your clit.

Her muscles bulged as she stood, now towering over you.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

She lifted you up, wrapping your legs around her waist before connecting your lips. She was sure you felt it, the bulge in her sweats. Just to be sure, she began to grind her hips into you, loving the way you moaned into the kiss.

You knew Lucy loved wearing her strap around the apartment so you don't know why it shocked you. You had missed this feeling. Her tongue entered your mouth, wrapping around yours and deepening the kiss. You didn't know whose breath was who's.

You whimpered as she sat you down on the edge of the bed.

"Get on all fours for me," she commanded her accent coming out even more. "Don't fucking make me wait."

You're breath hitches at her roughness, immediately complying. Slowly moving to your knees in the the center of the bed. Your chest rose and fell rapidly from the anticipation as you felt the bed dip from Lucy's weight.

Lucy couldn't stop the warmth that spread through her chest at the sight of your eager submission to her. The way you slightly wiggled your hips in need, you didn't even realize you were doing it.

The older woman stroked the black silicone toy, groaning as if she could feel it. Tapping it on your entrance, she watched as a string of your juices connected the toy and your core.

"You don't even know how fucking hot you are, love."

You both groaned as Lucy pushed into you slowly, your back arching.

She began to pump into you, her hips grinding into you at a pace that was slow, yet deep. She loved watching your head hang and your hips push back against her in ecstasy at her slow but hard thrusts.

The defender leaned down to kiss your nape, her skin burning yours. She could hear your sharp and breathy whimpers and it drove her to pound into you.

She had missed this dearly. Your sounds and need for her. She missed her ability to touch you whenever she wanted, claiming you as hers.

"I don't know how I went this long without you," she groaned into your ear, her fingers reaching down to your clit.

You bucked up against her at the sensation, your stomach beginning to tighten. Lucy watched you with fervor, gazing as you took what she gave you. You were perfect, just for her.

Her fingers continued to rub against you and her hips rocked slowly.

"Please cum," she begged. "I want it so bad."

Your back arched as her fingers got rougher.

"Fuck," you groaned, throwing your head back.

Lucy's thrusts began to quicken, becoming harsher. She needed your pleasure and wanted to see you come undone. Lucy had always put your pleasure above anything else and right now was no different.

"Give it to me, my love."

Her begging continued to spur you on, your gut reaching its boiling point. You came harshly, Lucy's hips milking your bliss and lengthening your orgasm.

Her movements didn't stop. Instead, she flipped you over, your body slamming into the bed.

"I'll never get over watching you cum," she moaned, her clit catching on the strap.

Her hands gripped your hips, pulling you down to meet her thrusts. Her fingertips dug into the fat of your hips, loving the flesh between them.

You watched her arms flex as she held you down, her biceps on display. Sweat rolled down her quivering abdomen as she continued to pleasure you.

"Please," you groaned out, your body still spasming.

"Please what, sweetheart," Lucy smiled, her hips continuing to slam into you, leaving a burning sensation on the back of your thighs. "Tell me what you want. Do you want me here?"

She allowed her fingers to return to your clit, tapping gently against the small nub. You gasped out at the overstimulation.

"You always were so needy," she grinned. "And I've always loved it."

"Lucy, please," you babbled, your body writhing beneath her. "A break, please."

She pouted mockingly and continued to thrust in and out of you.

"You want to be my little WAG in the stand, right? My little trophy wife?"

You nod, your cheeks heating, "Yes."

"Well, then you have to keep me happy. And what would make me really happy, baby, is for you to keep taking this cock."

[wcbblife]

Ok I have another one, can you do juju x fem reader where reader is on live and she’s reading comments and someone says “ juju mid asf” and reader defends her by saying “ juju and mid don’t belong together in a sentence unless ‘not is between them’ ” or something like that (idk I was half asleep when i wrote this in my notes so you can change that if you want 😭). Then blocks the person cause she doesn’t allow anyone to talk abt her gf like that . Then juju gets sent the live from her teammates, so she txt reader or post it on twitter saying “my girl 🫡” or something 😭 I just had to write it in my notes before I forgot bruh 😭

Live Love

a/n: Kinda cheesy and short but I like it ngl. Hope you like it anon!

You’re live, chatting with your followers, enjoying the rush of interactions. The comments are flowing in, and you're responding to questions. After seeing fans online practically begging for you to go live following the volleyball team’s tournament win at home, you figured it’d be a great way to kill time while waiting at the airport for your next game. It was mostly fun, a comforting distraction.

You scroll through the comments, selecting a few to answer.

What’s your favorite thing to do on a day off?

“Great question! Honestly, I love just chilling at home, maybe cooking something new or catching up on shows. If Juju’s free, we’ll go grab some food or watch a movie. It’s all about relaxing and recharging.”

More questions flood the chat, and you pick another one.

Any book recommendations?

“Absolutely! I’ve been reading ‘The Song of Achilles’ lately. The writing is beautiful and so immersive. Highly recommend it. It’s a bit sad, though, so read it if you’re into that.”

Do you have any pets?

“Juju got a little puppy recently. You guys should see him—he’s the cutest. Juju calls him our kid now.”

As you continue engaging with the audience, the flood of comments and emojis feels like a warm embrace. But then, a comment stops you in your tracks, and your smile falters.

juju mid asf 😂

You pause, staring at the screen in disbelief. Juju’s been working tirelessly and seeing someone dismiss her like this hits unexpectedly hard. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the fire spreading through your body.

“Now I know I ain’t just read what I think I did, right? Juju mid as fuck? Don’t overstep. Juju’s my girlfriend. Juju and ‘mid’ don’t belong in the same sentence unless ‘not’ is between them, and I’m not going to stand by while people talk down about her in front of me.”

You pause, steadying your voice, determined to stand your ground.

“Keep her name out of your mouth. She’s achieved so much, and she deserves respect, not baseless criticism. You’re not going to get on my live and talk bad about my girlfriend, that’s for sure. I’m blocking you, bruh. Get out of here with that. If you don't have anything nice to say, shut your mouth. Let’s keep the vibes positive.”

Blocking the user brings a wave of satisfaction and relief. You continue engaging with your followers, but a part of you is still buzzing from the need to defend Juju.

“Alrighty, y’all, I’ll have to cut the Q&A short. We have to get on the plane now. Peace!”

Meanwhile, Juju’s phone buzzes with notifications. Her teammates have sent her clips from your live stream that fans had recorded and posted on TikTok. Watching, she feels a swell of pride.

Feeling touched and a bit playful, Juju opens Twitter to share a thought:

“My girl 🫡 #Proud #NotMid”

Shortly after her tweet, your phone vibrates with a text from Juju.

“Saw your live. Thanks for having my back. You’re amazing.”

A smile spreads across your face.

“About to take off. Love you.”

“I love you too, babe. Call me when you land.”

[writingjourney]

apple punch kisses // emmrich volkarin x f!rook, 2.3k words

I learned that Nevarrans skate on the Minanter in Winter, so here's a short little thing about Emmrich teaching Rook how to ice skate, set post-game ♡

It is too cold for fresh snow.

The Minanter has frozen over, its water moving somewhere in the depths beneath a thick, unbreakable layer of ice. Its surface, nothing but a mirrored, crystal blue plane, is now occupied by ice skaters who spin and race between two nearby bridges. Old snow lines the river banks, trees bowing heavily under the weight of a long season. Everyone is yearning for Wintersend and yet the city is brimming with life on such a freezing but clear Winter's day.

The sun is deceivingly bright, its golden rays devoid of much warmth, and Rook can see Emmrich's breath when he laughs at the sight of children chasing each other with snowballs or flailing on sleighs, pulled behind breathless parents in thickly layered clothing. He's wearing ear muffs, woollen gloves, a thick coat with a dark green scarf that he's wrapped artfully around his slender neck. Manfred knit her a matching one, the stitches not quite as neat, but it provides ample protection from the cool wind.

"Darling, can I interest you in some spiced tea or hot apple wine before we venture onto the ice?" Emmrich's voice is filled with mirth, eager to show her the parts of Nevarran city life that are as yet unknown to her. "It should get us warmed up just right."

"Should we not wait until after the skating before we drink?" Rook asks. "I would hate to make an ass of myself–"

"Nonsense!" He grabs her by the arm, linking them tightly together as he leads her to a well-patronised market stall with adjacent tables and seating arrangements. "Besides, they have many beverages on offer without any liquor or wine. The spiced tea is highly commendable but perhaps the hot apple punch is more to your liking? Of the children's variety, alas, but it might suit your sweet tooth."

As they wait for the rather long queue to clear, surrounded by the smell of roasted chestnuts, Rook takes her time to read all that is so artfully written on the long chalk board menus, different types of spiced teas, mulled wines and hot fruit juices. Her eyes drift over the other patrons, red-cheeked, giddy and no doubt already tipsy, laughing as they share stories, all the while cradling their hot mugs between gloved fingers. Nevarrans celebrating a period that feels so devoid of life is rather fitting, she thinks, the way they cherish it in even the bleakest of seasons, aware that time is so very fleeting.

Emmrich leans in, then, pressing a soft kiss to her head. "It is rather lovely here, is it not?"

Rook nods, blinks up at him with a warm smile. "It is. Thank you for inviting me."

"Oh, I do have plans for you, my darling. This invitation is not as altruistic as it may seem. If you think I am a good dancer on even footing then you must see me on the ice. I do aim to impress."

"I hope you are prepared to catch me even as you pirouette. You know I have never done this before."

He chuckles, leaning in until his breath ghosts along her ear. "I hear that I am quite the proficient teacher, dearest, no matter the type of physical activity."

Rook's face has already been bit by the cold wind but it begins to feel even more heated now. His lips come to rest against her cheekbone and a gloved hand squeezes her waist. Even now it never fails to impress her how he so effortlessly disarms her, dispelling any concerns with such practiced charms. She'd melt under his touch if she had any time to linger in it.

"What can I get you, professor?" They have reached the end of the line and a young woman tends to them, not so inconspicuously taking the pair of them in. Rook nestles a little closer into Emmrich's side but he doesn't seem to notice.

With their drinks in hand, they find one of the high wooden tables, Emmrich sipping on his hot spiced tea while Rook glances back at the woman who served them, fiddling with the handle of her apple-punch-filled copper mug.

"One of our students," he explains conversationally. "Helping out here is a rather popular way to earn some extra coin and the free drinks are not to be dismissed, of course."

"Neither is the gossip," Rook muses, catching the girls ever-curious gaze and smiling with a hint of satisfaction when she quickly glances away.

She takes her first sip, then, and after the initial sting of heat the rich aromas of sweet apple, cinnamon, nutmeg and clove linger like wisps on her tongue. The warmth settles in her belly and Emmrich has inched closer to her as well, a protective arm wrapped around her middle. He smells like the best parts of winter, incense, smoke, a hint of pine.

"Perhaps we should give her some more spiced fuel, then?" he mumbles. "As befits the season."

Rook giggles helplessly when he tips her head back and presses his lips to hers. She tastes a similar mix of spices on his tongue, something richer, then, tangy and alcoholic. His mouth is still warmed by the drink, citrus and herbs on her skin. Even in the cold his kiss does not fail to ignite her, the soft sighs he breathes, his fingers curling just so around her shape. Whenever he shows a hint of possessiveness her whole body gives out, as if to agree – I am yours and no one else's.

"Perhaps I should have taken the tea as well," she whispers. "Though it might taste better on your tongue."

Emmrich smiles, licks his lips as he breaks away. "Don't tempt me to end this visit as soon as it started, darling. I do want to take you to the ice before I take you to bed."

"Butt bruises and chafed knees might make that a little uncomfortable–"

"Oh come now, you have dealt with much worse," he interrupts, playfully tipping his chin towards his shoulder. "And besides, I will do my very best to keep you from falling."

She smiles, amused, leaning into him. He's more than willing to indulge her, always, soaking up any affection she is willing to offer. And it has become so easy between them, perhaps because she needs him more than ever, all that happened a looming shadow in the back of her mind, ready to pull her under. If Emmrich didn't drag her out on occasion, make her see the world they fought so hard for, she might not be able to stay so rooted in the present.

They don't talk about it often, that fresh scar on their hearts, but it shows in the way their hands always search for the other's, every call of their name from the other room a little more urgent, the fever with which their bodies entwine after a nightmare, kisses with a force so bruising that it reminds her of what's real. She still struggles to fall asleep when he's not home.

The drinks empty all too quickly. Warmth still radiates from her belly to the tips of her fingers as they make their way to the frozen river, renting skates from a kind dwarf who is concerningly good at estimating their sizes. Rook is used to difficult terrain but this is new, thrilling, a little scary if she's being honest. Emmrich holds her hand as he eases them onto the ice. She instinctively tries to take a step towards him, losing her already poor balance. His grip on her tightens painfully, steadying her before she can land on her ass and pulling her securely into his arms.

"Easy," he whispers, voice dropping low. "Don't move too quickly, darling. Slow and steady. You don't want to walk, you want to glide. Would you like me to demonstrate?"

"Please," she says, regretting her reply the moment he lets go of her entirely.

Emmrich shares none of her awkwardness. Practiced movements, as though he's been doing nothing else for years, all while she struggles to stay standing. One end of his scarf flies behind him as he dances over the ice, turns around to look at her, skating backwards now, then forward again. The sound of blades scratching over ice, kids laughing in the background as they push a pinecone back and forth, the occasional grunt of pain of those who don't manage to be quite so graceful. And yet he commands the ice with an ease she can only envy, drawing everyone's gazes to his effortless performance.

When Emmrich reaches her again he smiles like a little boy. He slows but doesn't stop and Rook squeals when he grabs her hands and pulls her forward. She is holding on for dear life, unmoving, allowing her feet to glide on their own across the slippery surface.

"There you go, darling," he says, delighted, and at her scowl he laughs with such genuine amusement that she forgets about the ice underneath her feet.

She tries to copy him, slow movements, shifting one leg forward, then the other, steel-grip on his hand. He gently encourages her and she's distracted enough by his enthusiasm, ice crystals clinging to his moustache and brows, nose read and cheeks puffy. But then she startles, realises that they're in the middle of the river, so far away from any solid ground to step on. Her legs waver, knees buckle, and before she knows what's happening she already drops backwards onto the hard ice.

Pain shoots into her tailbone, claws up her spine, and her vision blurs for a moment before she realises what happened. She can't breathe, her lungs squeezed empty by the impact.

"Darling," Emmrich gasps above her, having lost grip of her hand. "Are you alright?"

Words fail her, lungs still deflated and pain stuck in her chattering teeth. The cold of the ice seeps into her bones, the air around her biting in her nostrils. She groans, trying to shift her weight away from her aching butt. Emmrich hoists her up, somehow, holding her in his arms, just as quickly as she fell. Cheeks hot with embarrassment she hides in his chest, another groan, though the pain slowly recedes. He sends warm waves of magic through her body to soothe her.

"It's alright, my love," he whispers. "It happens to everyone, nothing to be embarrassed about."

"You wouldn't think I fought dragons and Gods," she grumbles.

Emmrich huffs a laugh, a kiss loosely pressed to her hair. "You will get the hang of it, darling. A little patience goes a long way."

She swallows a complaint when he urges her to go again. This time, she tries not to focus on her surroundings but on him, his smiles, the soft knitted pattern of his gloves. He is a good teacher, there is no denying it, and he commands her attention just as well as he commands the ice. Soon, she finds herself gliding more smoothly, her balance finally adjusting to the altered circumstances, and now at last she sees the point of it all. Rook feels weightless, untethered, and it's fun. For a while they slowly skate in tandem, hand in hand, an easy rhythm that's all suited to her lack of skill. Then, near the edge of the river, Emmrich lets go of her and she closes the gap with a spirited skate acorss the distance, trusting in her growing confidence.

Emmrich catches her easily in his arms and they giggle like fools, a hug so tight that they sway on the ice from the sheer force of it.

"Very good, my darling," he whispers against her ear. "So very good."

A shiver runs down her back, her hands sliding underneath his coat as she presses ever closer, a not so innocent exchange of warmth. Emmrich hums, tugs her in until they both fit snugly. "Perhaps that is enough for our first lesson, don't you think?"

"I could use another one of those hot beverages," she mumbles. "And whatever you promised comes after."

"We do have to find suitable ways to warm up, dearest," he agrees.

Rook leans back, smiling up at him with a newfound joy for life. Emmrich's nose is a glowing red, every hair on his face frozen, a pearl of ice stuck in his lashes, and he looks so lovely like that. She can't help but tiptoe up to him and he meets her, cold lips pressed to cold lips, warm breath against icy skin. Bundled together, she can feel his heart rate increasing, her hand dipping to find the curve of his lower back. Emmrich sighs, leaning more of his weight against her, but it tips her fragile balance, the blade on her skates slipping and taking him with her. They topple over, landing in a pillow of soft snow by the riverbank.

"This time you did catch me, my love," Rook says from on top of him.

Emmrich seems less amused, his scarf and coat covered in snow, hair mussed and clumped in wet strands. She can't help but laugh and it's enough to wring a smile from him as well, even as he begins to knock the snow off his clothing. Rook assists him but she's soon distracted by the snowflakes stuck in his lashes, the way his hair has fallen into his face, the annoyed little curl of his lips.

"I love you so, Emmrich," she whispers.

He looks up with flushed cheeks but she's already kissing him again, licking the ice from his mouth. He surrenders with a huff that billows like smoke in the cold air around them and she thinks that falling isn't so bad, at least not when they're falling together.

[sansaorgana]

I’m not quite sure if your requests are open or not so if they aren’t just ignore this!♥️ but if they are, hi!!! I was wondering if you could do an Austin Butler/Buck Cleven x Reader who plays hard to get with him. She is like head nurse or something, a badass who was trained by her daddy in the arts of war, like I’m talking knowing how to throw hand grenades, shooting rifles or knowing how to work a plane despite her role in modern day 1940s society. I don’t like reading abt Y/N being naive yk?

hello! 💕 this story takes place when the boys are still in the USA and training. I believe I've read somewhere they actually spent two years in Texas so... the Reader is a girl from Texas and a daughter of one of the badass Colonels at the base who is training Buck and others. she is also a head nurse at that base (I assume they also had sickbays even though those were training bases...? I literally know nothing about the military lmao). I hope she will be strong enough for you 😌 I personally don't find every sweet and more period-accurate female character to be weak or naive but it was still nice to write a different type of character for once 😅

I might post less frequently in the upcoming days because I am catching up with my uni work finally after a few weeks of abandoning it to write fics lol

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

Bucky laughed at the sight of his friend going inside the sickbay after a training flight. He was going there for the fifth time this week and it was all because his friend had a crush on the head nurse, young (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

Miss (Y/L/N) was a daughter of Colonel (Y/L/N) – the Colonel (Y/L/N) – the scariest and the roughest man around. He had a scar right across his face and he was known for being so strong he could rip the tree out of the ground with his bare hands… or so the legend said.

His daughter was just like her father. She was feminine of course in her nurse’s apron and her hair done up neatly so it wouldn’t interrupt her work. Her hands were soft and her lips covered with red lipstick. But she was a tough girl who didn’t mind swearing a little and scolding all the boys at the base for their irresponsible behaviour. She probably didn’t know that they all acted this way just so they could get to the sickbay and be treated by her.

At least that was the case for Buck.

She sighed at the sight of him and rolled her eyes as she approached him when he entered the room.

“Major Cleven… Again?” She raised her eyebrows at him and he blushed. “What is it this time?”

“I am… I am dizzy,” he made up a pathetic lie and she huffed at that as she pointed at the chair for him to sit down on.

“I will give you something for that but if you keep having troubles of this sort, I’m gonna tell my daddy to not send you to Europe, you know?” She teased and he swallowed thickly at that comment.

“Please, don’t, Miss (Y/L/N),” he pleaded, his eyes carefully following her every movement as she looked at him with a smirk.

“Well, we don’t want weak pilots like you to defend our country, do we?” She teased.

“It’s not because of flying… It’s… I don’t know, it’s something else,” Buck hated himself for the way he acted around her. She was so intimidating but so tempting at the same time. The fragile part of his masculinity was simply scared of her but his other, brave side wanted to be around her all the time. And he was very well aware how many other men wanted her, too. But his feelings were real. It had very little to do with desire. He was serious about her.

She approached him and handed him a pill and a glass of water. He swallowed it and she squinted her eyes at him.

“I swear to God, you boys are the worst bunch I’ve ever dealt with,” she shook her head. “I hope in Europe I will handle real men,” she rolled her eyes.

“You’re going to Europe, too?” Buck asked as he widened his eyes.

“Of course, Major. It brings me no pleasure to be here and help buffoons like you,” she chuckled. “I signed up already and my daddy wants me to be assigned to the 100th.”

“That’s where I will go, too,” Buck’s eyes sparkled as he realised that she wouldn’t get rid of him so easily.

“Oh God…” (Y/N) sighed. “I hope you’ll be long gone by the time I get there.”

“I hope not,” he blurted out and she froze for a second before laughing.

“Oh, you’re cute, Major,” she admitted before walking away to deal with the next man entering the sickbay, coming up with some fake injury just to feel her hands examining him and hear her mocking tone scolding him for his irresponsibility.

You liked Bucky Egan because he was funny and he didn’t care about you. He could have any woman he wanted so he wasn’t showing off when you were around – or playing a victim like so many “injured” Majors, Captains and Lieutenants. You were growing sick of all of them, coming to you with every single papercut and making puppy eyes at you.

You were having a beer with Bucky behind one of the buildings in the evening. Consuming alcohol was forbidden but who would fire you? You were a daughter of the roughest Colonel in that base. And Bucky was under your protection – and one of the best pilots around.

“Alright, but if you had to go out with any of them, who would that be?” Bucky asked, teasingly.

“For fuck’s sake, John,” you rolled your eyes and leaned your head back to rest it on the wall. “It would be you.”

“But I don’t want you,” he laughed.

“You…,” you hissed at him and you both giggled. “That’s why I would go out with you.”

“Oh, you like the ones who don’t want you?”

“No, I like real men,” you told him. “Like my daddy is.”

“You know that my best friend is madly in love with you, right?” Bucky pushed your arm playfully.

“Curt Biddick?” You asked. God, that one was insufferable.

“Yeah, him too. But I mean the other one.”

“Buck Cleven?” You asked as you felt your cheeks heating up for some mysterious reason.

“Yeah, that one,” Bucky nodded. “He’s a good guy and a hell of a pilot. He’s tough, too, just in a different way.”

“Yeah, he’s cute, bless his heart,” you admitted.

“So, you’d go out with him?” Bucky raised his eyebrow at you.

“Stop playing matchmaker, it’s not gonna happen. I ain’t dating any man from this base,” you took a sip of your beer as you shook your head.

“Why not, though? You don’t want to marry a man like your daddy? I thought you wanted to,” Bucky asked.

“Y’all would be scared of a gal like me, let me tell you,” you giggled. “I can shoot a rifle and throw a grenade. My daddy wanted a son, you see. But my momma gave him only girls so he raised us like boys,” you told him. “All that discipline, I ain’t joking, Bucky,” you pushed him because he was laughing. “We had to get up at 5am, make our bed, do morning gymnastics,” you teased.

“Really?” His face became more serious.

“Nah,” you shook your head. “Only sometimes. But he took the whole business of teaching us self-defence very seriously. I remember asking him, where the hell would I even get a grenade from in case some boy was following me home, daddy? And he said: easy, sugar, they’re in my drawer next to the gun,” you laughed and so did Bucky.

“You know what I think?” Bucky put his bottle of beer down and shot you an odd glance you did not like at all.

“What, Egan?”

“You’re gonna get angry when I tell you.”

“Just tell me,” you rolled your eyes.

“I think you need a man who’s gonna see a woman in you. Like yeah, we all know you’re tough and shit. And all these boys want to be around you because you’re like a mother that they have left back home in the way you scold them and take care of them. But I think you just need someone to see a woman in you. Has anyone ever…?”

“You asshole,” you indeed got angry. You didn’t want him to be right and react in such a predictable way but you did.

You stood up and went back to the building to go to sleep, leaving Bucky Egan without a word.

You didn’t know what Bucky had said to Buck but Major Cleven hadn’t visited the sickbay in a week now and you hated to admit but you missed it. In fact, you were the most excited when it was him coming inside with some adorable injury or illness. There was something about him that was making you swoon even though you would never ever admit that. 

On that weekend most boys had a night out and you stayed inside the sickbay to deal with the paperwork. One of the head nurse’s duties sadly required filling some papers, too.

After a while, you heard a light knocking upon the front door and you sighed before standing up and opening them, shocked to see Major Cleven.

“Major?” You asked. “What is it again? The mysterious dizziness has had its comeback?”

“N-no,” he shook his head.

“Why aren’t you out with all the boys?”

“I didn’t want to go,” he admitted and you squinted your eyes at him.

“So you decided to catch me in an empty room instead? I have a gun here and I know how to use it,” you threatened although it was hard to believe that a man like Major Cleven would ever hurt any woman.

“I wanted to ask you if you’d go out on a walk with me, Miss (Y/L/N),” he widened his eyes at your threats. “It’s a warm and nice night.”

“Ugh, fine,” you shrugged your arms and grabbed a cardigan to put over your nurse’s outfit. He waited for you outside nervously with his hands in his pockets.

“I don’t want to be a bother, we don’t have to…” Buck told you as you were locking the door behind you.

“You’re lucky, Major, I needed a distraction from the papers,” you told him and joined him.

“Yeah, the paperwork. I don’t like it either,” he looked down and you two began to walk slowly towards the gates leading out of the base.

“And who does?” You chuckled and looked at him as you bit on your lip. He was adorable; something about him was making you feel protective. But on the other hand you knew from your father he was one of the best pilots and he was a man of honour. Your father was usually rolling his eyes at the mention of most men at the base. But never about Major Cleven. Your father rarely respected the young and new ones but something about that Major was making your daddy go easy on him.

“I wanted to apologise, actually,” Buck told you when you two finally left the base and began to walk alongside its fence.

“Hm? About what?” You asked.

“Bothering you five times a week with made up dizziness or papercuts,” he laughed nervously.

“And what made you apologise? You’re not the only one who’s been doing that, Major, but you’re surely the first actually saying he’s sorry,” you raised an eyebrow.

“Bucky told me it’s annoying you and that it’s not really a way to get to you,” he admitted as he looked up at your face.

“Why the hell would you want to get to me? You’re a sweet man,” you snorted at him. In the dim light of the moon and the base’s lights from afar you could see him blushing.

“What does it have to do with it, Miss (Y/L/N)?” Buck asked.

“I’m not sweet, Major Cleven. A guy like you… You should be out there in town with them boys and look for a sweet little naive doll for yourself,” you teased him. But deep down it hurt you that it was true – you were raised for a tough girl but sometimes… Sometimes you wished you were softer.

“You think so low of me, Miss?” He only shook his head with a nervous chuckle. “That type of woman you’ve mentioned… They’re nice and kind, I don’t mind them, they’re sweet, yeah. And they make good wives to lots of men but you… You’re the first one who actually impressed me,” he confessed.

You went silent for a moment. You liked that he wasn’t complimenting you while saying mean things about others.

“You’re a real gentleman, Cleven,” you pointed out. “And so smooth. You’d be a sensation if you stayed here in Texas.”

“Would I?” He stopped his walk and so did you as he turned around to face you better.

“Yeah. But if you stayed here, you’d soon realise there are more gals like me ‘round here. And I’d lose all the charm,” you teased.

“Then maybe I’d finally leave you alone, which I assume is your wish.”

“Oh, far from that,” you risked as you raised your eyebrows, waiting for his next move.

He hesitated for a while and then he smiled smugly and joined his lips with yours in a sweet but passionate kiss that took your breath away.

Bucky had been right – it was nice to be treated like a woman.

“Will your daddy shoot me for that?” Major Cleven asked with a chuckle after finally breaking the kiss.

“It’s not him you should be worried about. I can shoot, too, Major, and my daddy wouldn’t get rid of the best pilot,” you teased.

“But you would?” He grabbed your chin gently.

“The best pilot? Surely. But would I get rid of Major Cleven? Never,” you chuckled. “God, I’ve missed your made up migraines,” you confessed.

“I can fake more of them,” he smirked.

“Yes, please,” you chuckled and leaned in to kiss him again. “But let’s keep it a secret for now.”

“Why?”

“Because if my daddy finds out about us, he’ll make sure we won’t be sent to the same base in Europe and we don’t want that, do we…?” You looked up at him, your heart pounding so fast in your chest as it had never done before for any man.

“Oh, no, no, we don’t want that at all,” Major Cleven bopped you on the nose. “Who will deal with my headaches there otherwise?”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[big-ooof]

The One That Got Away

non-idol!jake x f!reader

note: this is a continuation of the first post of the same title but this can be read independently!

The streets are quieter now, but the city’s humidity still clings to the air like a second skin. You and Jake are walking side by side, saying nothing, your footsteps oddly in sync. You don’t know how it ended up this way: a random crossing of paths, and you were too tired to argue when he offered to walk you back.

Your hotel is only a few blocks away from his. He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, glances sideways. “You still get quiet when you're thinking too hard.”

You shoot him a glare, “you still act like you know me.”

He scoffs softly. “I do know you. Or I did. Enough to know when you’re shutting down.”

You stop walking. “Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

Jake stops too, facing you under the streetlight. “Then talk to me like a real person, not a ghost.”

You’re caught off guard, heat rising in your chest. “I’m not a ghost.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You left without a word.”

“You knew I was leaving!”

“Yeah, I knew the flight time, not that you'd vanish off the face of the earth. You said goodbye like it was temporary. Like maybe we’d figure something out.”

You cross your arms, looking anywhere but him. “I was 21. I had a job to go back to. A life. And you were this guy in Australia I happened to feel something for.”

His jaw tightens, but he nods slowly. “Right. A guy you felt something for, just long enough to make it hurt.”

You sigh. “Jake…”

“No, it’s fine. It was a short story. A summer thing. I just didn’t realize you wrote the ending before I even got to say how I felt.”

Silence. The weight of that lands hard. Finally you admit, “I didn’t know how to handle what I felt. So I chose the easier option, to leave it behind.”

“And now? Still easier to pretend it meant nothing?”

You stare at him. “I never said it meant nothing.”

“Then what did it mean?”

You open your mouth, then close it again. The answer feels dangerous, like it might unearth everything you’ve worked to bury. “It meant I was happy. Scared. Unprepared. And if I told you any of that back then, I might’ve never gotten on that plane.”

Jake takes a slow breath, steps a little closer. “I waited at that airport, you know. Just in case you changed your mind.”

You blink, stunned. “What?”

“Yeah. I had this dumb hope that you’d call, or show up, or leave me a note or something. I thought what we had was worth at least that.”

You feel your eyes sting again, the guilt clawing back up. “I didn’t know how to say goodbye to something that felt unfinished. So I just… didn’t.”

A pause. Jake studies you. “You still don’t know how.”

You’re quiet, the weight of the years hanging between you. Then you look up at him.

“I’m staying at the corner hotel on 43rd. I’m two blocks away.”

He nods, starts walking again. You fall into step beside him.

You stop in front of the hotel. Jake’s close enough now that you can smell him — the clean, familiar scent you’d forgotten until tonight.

Acting on impulse you say, “I have some beer in the mini fridge.. if you want to keep talking.”

He watches you for a second, then slowly steps closer, testing your boundaries without breaking them. “Is talking all you’re offering?”

Your stomach flips. You search his eyes, but there’s no cockiness there, just quiet vulnerability beneath the tension.

You consider saying something clever, but all you can manage is, “you coming in or not?”

He smiles faintly, follows you inside.

You kick off your shoes, flick on the light, and toss your bag onto a chair. Jake stands near the door, watching you like he’s not sure how far he’s allowed to go.

“You look like you’re afraid to sit down," you tease.

“I’m afraid if I do, I won’t want to leave," he replies.

You freeze for a second, then move past him to get to the mini fridge, but he catches your wrist, gently, without force, and you both stop moving.

“I meant what I said earlier. I can pretend we never met… but I don’t want to," Jake says softly.

You swallow, pulse quickening. “I didn’t say I wanted that either.”

There’s only a few inches between you now. He looks at you like he’s waiting for permission. “Can I kiss you?”

You don’t answer with words. You step in, tilt your head up, and press your lips to his.

It’s slow at first. Uncertain and searching, but as soon as your fingers tangle in his shirt, it deepens. Years of unresolved tension unfurl all at once. His hands find your waist, then your lower back, then beneath the hem of your shirt like muscle memory.

You pull him toward the bed, mouths still locked, breath ragged. He pauses just long enough to ask again with his eyes— Are you sure?

You nod, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. He exhales, and that’s all the confirmation he needs.

Clothes fall away between kisses. His skin is warm against yours. It’s not desperate, it’s reverent. He touches you like he remembers exactly how, like your body is a language he used to be fluent in and is relearning in real time.

You gasp his name. He whispers yours like it’s the only word he knows.

And when he finally pushes into you, it’s slow, unhurried— as if both of you are trying to prove something that couldn’t be said out loud.

He holds your hand. He kisses your shoulder. And for a moment, it feels like the world outside the hotel room doesn’t exist.

You lie on your side, half-covered by the hotel sheet, facing Jake. The air between you is heavy and quiet. His fingers trace lazy circles against your shoulder, but you can feel the question building behind his touch.

Jake asks quietly, “So… do we talk now? Or do we pretend this never happened too?”

Your heart tightens. You blink at the ceiling, then back at him. “I don’t want to pretend.”

He exhales, nods once, like he needed to hear it even if he doesn’t believe it yet. “Okay. Then let’s talk.”

You sit up, wrapping the sheet around yourself like a shield. He watches you, still lying down, arms crossed behind his head. “I didn’t plan for this, Jake. I came to New York to see Celeste. To reset. I didn’t expect to see you.”

“You think I planned this? Jay told me a friend of Celeste’s was in town. He didn’t say it was you.”

You nod, fiddling with the sheet in your lap. “I wasn’t ready four years ago. I told myself it was just a fling, two people filling time. But then I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And that scared the shit out of me.”

“You didn’t even give me a way to reach you. I waited for weeks. I thought maybe you’d email, or call, or something. I checked that brewery’s Instagram like a psycho.”

You laugh softly, apologetically. “I deleted the number on purpose. I thought it would help me move on. But I never really did. I just… packed it away.”

He sits up then, mirroring your posture, elbows resting on his knees. “Do you still feel the same? About me?”

That’s the question, isn’t it?

You look at him. He’s not the boy you left behind in Australia, but the man sitting across from you now. He’s still Jake. Still maddening and kind and maddeningly kind. You reach for his hand. “Yeah. I do.”

He swallows hard. “Then maybe this isn’t just closure.”

“Maybe not.”

A silence passes between you, but this one feels different— less loaded, more full of possibilities.

Jake smiles, “okay, well… I’m definitely not leaving this hotel room tonight. I just got you back.”

You raise a brow. “Just got me back?”

He grins and pulls you back down with him, tucking you against his chest. You let him. For the first time since you landed in New York, the humidity doesn’t bother you. The air feels clear.

The light creeps in through the hotel curtains, soft and warm. You blink awake slowly, vaguely disoriented until you feel the weight of Jake’s arm draped over your waist.

He’s already awake, watching you with the kind of expression that feels like a memory you didn’t know you missed.

“You snore, by the way.” Jake says, he voice low and teasing.

You smirk, “No, I don’t.”

“Okay, maybe not. But you do steal the covers.”

You nudge him with your shoulder. He catches your hand under the blanket and holds it.

A beat. Then he gently says, “I gotta head out soon. Meeting Jay for breakfast.”

You nod, trying to keep the disappointment from showing. You remind yourself this wasn’t supposed to be anything — and yet, it was. You sit up, holding the sheet to your chest, watching him stand and collect his things.

He looks like he doesn’t want to leave. “I’ll text you later?”

You nod again, this time with a small smile. “Yeah. I’ll be around.”

“Last night wasn’t nothing, Y/N.”

“I know.”

He holds your gaze for a beat longer, then slips out the door. You don’t move for a while. Then you call Celeste to meet up for lunch.

You sit across from Celeste at a quiet spot in the West Village. She insisted on someplace low-key where you two could “talk without yelling over a DJ.”

She’s sipping an iced matcha, oversized sunglasses on despite the cloudy weather. Celeste narrows her eyes at you before saying, “you slept with him.”

You nearly choke on your water. “How do you even know that?”

“Because you’ve got that ‘I didn’t mean to but it felt right’ look on your face. Also, Jay said Jake showed up this morning with bedhead and his hoodie on inside out.”

You groan, pressing your hand against your forehead.

Celeste laughs, “don’t worry, Jay’s sworn to secrecy. I bribed him with pastries.”

“I didn’t plan on this.”

Celeste leans in, suddenly softer. “You don’t have to justify it. But I do need to ask… what now?”

You shrug, stirring your drink. “I don’t know. I told him I still have feelings. He said maybe this isn’t just closure. But... there’s still a lot between us we haven’t unpacked. We barely know who we are now.”

“That’s fair. But maybe this is a new beginning. Or maybe it’s just something you needed to finish.” She reaches across the table and squeezes your hand. “Whatever it is, I’ve got your back.”

You smile at her, grateful. And for the first time since you landed in New York, you let yourself take a deep breath— not knowing what comes next, but trusting that something good might finally be on its way.

[kimberleyjean]

What did Adam change? (Part 1)

To follow up on my recent reblog about the baby swap, I'm going to take a closer look at Adam where we leave him at the end of S1. Because, by the end of S1, Adam had changed quite a few things... and I'm going to use both the TV show and the book to provide evidence.

To become the Young's real son, I don't think Adam really needed to change all that much. He just says the words to Satan, Satan disappears, and that should be it, right? But no, because Adam goes much further, and I think he does it because he can.

Because Adam has opinions, you see. Opinions on how the world should be and what he wants to happen. Except, unlike Agnes, who needs to write a prophecy and then wait 300 years for her descendant to enact it, Adam can just make it so.

The Other Two Babies

I originally thought about putting all the things Adam changes into a single post, but instead I'm going to make this a short series of posts, because he changes a fair bit. Let's start with where we left off with the baby swap, crack open a copy of the book and discuss the changes for Warlock and Greasy first.

Warlock

Here's some excerpts of Warlock flying home from Megiddo to America (my bolds for emphasis):

It was Sunday afternoon. High over England a 747 droned westwards. In the first-class cabin a boy called Warlock put down his comic and stared out of the window.

...

And now he was going back to the States. There had been some sort of problem with tickets or flights or airport destination-boards or something. It was weird; he was pretty sure his father had meant to go back to England. Warlock liked England. It was a nice country to be an American in.

...

And Warlock flew on to America. He deserved something (after all, you never forget the first friends you ever had, even if you were all a few hours old at the time) and the power that was controlling the fate of all mankind at that precise time was thinking: Well, he's going to America, isn't he? Don't see how you could have anythin' better than going to America. They've got thirty-nine flavors of ice cream there. Maybe even more.

So it's Adam who has sent Warlock back to America, despite Warlock wanting (even, expecting) to be on his way to England. And he's controlling the fate of all mankind.

Greasy

Likewise, he has changes for Greasy Johnson too (the discarded baby who grows up to win prizes for his tropical fish).

The plane was at that point passing right above the Lower Tadfield bedroom of Greasy Johnson, who was aimlessly leafing through a photography magazine that he'd bought merely because it had a rather good picture of a tropical fish on the cover. A few pages below Greasy's listless finger was a spread on American football, and how it was really catching on in Europe. Which was odd… because when the magazine had been printed, those pages had been about photography in desert conditions. It was about to change his life.

Adam is deciding here how to alter Warlock and Greasy's paths. Warlock wants to be back in the UK, but Adam thinks America is better, while Greasy's magazine is changed to American football, which I guess is implying he's going to become an American footballer.

Now, not everyone may be aware, but these parts weren't in the first release of the novel. It only came about later, in the American edition. Apparently the changes were in response to prompting from the American editor, but they got "carried away" making those changes (source).

Season 3 (warning: speculation)

So, do you think this could be relevant for S3? For me personally, the fact that these bits were added later makes me wonder if this was helping to set up for a potential sequel. It's certainly poetic - just like the baby swap that originally involved all three, we are now implying a potential adolescent swap of Greasy, who is interested in American football, and Warlock, who is interested to return to the U.K.

If you've read at all about the hypothetical plot of the proposed written sequel, you'll know that it involved a trip to America, ostensibly to look for a lost Jesus. So, if the next book was originally meant to be about going and finding someone (Jesus?) in America, then Greasy or Warlock could make sense. It would be a switcheroo all over again if Warlock had left for the UK and Greasy for America.

Another alternative is that all three could end up converging in America, since Warlock already lives there and both Adam and Greasy have interests in going there. But if that's the intention, why mention that Warlock wants to be back "home" in the U.K.?

So, those are my possible takes on how this passage can be interpreted. I know there are some theories that either Greasy or Warlock may be the Second Coming. I've also seen a theory now that Adam himself could be a contender (both spawn of Satan and spawn of God - it'd certainly be interesting!). I'm not placing bets on any of these outcomes just yet.

In addition to this passage in the book, we also see some interesting changes made by Adam which are featured more prominently in the show - one's that have implications for the ineffable husbands.

Part 2 coming soon!

Thanks as always to everyone at the @ineffable-detective-agency (including @noneorother, @embracing-the-ineffable, @lookingatacupoftea, @251-dmr, @somehow-a-human, @maufungi, @havemyheartaziraphale, @theastrophysicistnextdoor, @dunkthebiscuit, @komorezuki, & @ghstptats).

[ladymunson]

Mile High 18+

Fic summary: You Spot the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in the business class lounge at the airport and then he happens to be on the same flight as you. Things are about to get very interesting.

A/N: This is a short one shot Drabble, there will be no additional parts. No use of y/n. No minors, shoo!

Warnings: strangers to lovers, SMUT 18+, mutual public masturbation, public nudity, airplane bathroom, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) cream pie.

Word count: 1244

I do NOT give permission for my work to be copied, translated or posted to any other platform.

Support content creators by hitting that reblog tab.

You arrive at Boston Logan airport an hour earlier than you need to, and spend time in the lounge after checking in. It’s mid evening so they offer you a glass of wine, business class sure has its perks. You take a seat at the bar and sip on your wine as people come in and out of the lounge. While waiting for your flight to be called, something catches your eye. He enters the lounge and stops, standing over by the door, his expensive suit opening up as he stretches revealing his tight and broad shoulders. He’s fucking gorgeous! And possibly the sexiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. His beard full and luscious, his eyes a sparkling blue matching his tie.

He looks around the lounge and stops when he sees you. The top button of your white blouse is open, he catches a glimpse of cleavage, his eyes widen as he continues staring at you.

Your black skirt was short enough to reveal your thighs and he looks at your legs, the black stilettos on your feet... Hunger in his eyes. You both eye fuck each other across the lounge, he keeps his distance and doesn’t approach, at which you quickly glance down at his left hand that is holding a briefcase. He’s not wearing a wedding ring.

The flight is called so you pick up your handbag and head towards the door, brushing past him. Making sure there was a little contact. You can feel the electricity as you touched, had he felt it too? Doesn't matter you think to yourself, because you won't see him again.

You board the plane, the flight attendant pointing you the the right direction. After settling in your seat, you feel someone was standing next to you, you think it might be the flight attendant. But it isn’t... It’s him.

He smiles at you, and you return his smile.

The flight attendants go through the preflight routine which you’ve seen many times before, so you concentrate on the book you’re reading.

As the plane takes off, the rumbling of the engines starts to turn me on. A dampness in you underwear causing you to shift. You haven’t realised, but you’ve been caressing your collarbone and the contours of your breasts (you do that sometimes when you’re thinking about sex). But he’s noticed and been staring at you.

He looks a little uncomfortable; you look around to see if you can figure out why.

Then you see it...

The hard on he had been trying to conceal with his copy of 'The Boston Herald’.

You look him in the eye, and smile. A boldness building within you, so you kick off your shoes and rearrange yourself into a more comfortable position with your legs crossed. So, he can see your black lacy French panties. You pull the gusset of them side to side gently, enjoying the friction against your pussy.

His hand disappears underneath the paper and you hear the sound of a zipper.

He was stroking himself under there, and you couldn't see.

You pull your panties to one side...

For a few seconds you just let him look at your Pussy, wet and pulsing, aching for his touch but having to make do with your own.

You begin to rub your clit, gently at first but soon that wasn't enough. You raise an eyebrow, challenging him.

He lifts up the paper to show you his cock, it’s large and thick and looks like it could give you immense pleasure. His hand works up and down on his shaft, as you work mine on your Pussy. Doing this in such a public setting is so naughty but so exciting, it’s heightening the pleasure you’re feeling.

You’re seconds away from coming; he must've sensed it cos he snatches you hand away and transfers it to his cock...

When your fingers close around his warm skin, you hear him moan.

Then he throws your hand away, zips himself up, and moves out of the chair.

Why?

Disappointment must've shown on your face because he winks and nods towards the lavatory door.

You can’t follow straight away; you don’t even bother to put your shoes on when you get out of your seat and walk down the gangway towards the lavatory.

You knock lightly on the door, the door folds to one side and a strong arm pulls you in...

He’s got his pants down round his ankles, his beautiful dick standing to attention before you.

He pulls you close and kisses you, urgent and probing around in your mouth.

He sits down on the lavatory seat and pulls you towards him; he rolls your panties over your hips, and you step out of them.

You part your legs so they are either side of his lap and lift your skirt so he can see how wet you are....

You lower yourself down onto his cock, letting the head rest against your dripping cunt for a moment. You had meant to hover, teasing him but you can’t. You desperately need him inside you.

You lower yourself down, letting his cock prise open your wetness and penetrate you. Filling you up, giving you what you need.

You lift yourself and begin to pound your Pussy onto his cock, hard and fast.

He bites your hard swollen nipples through your blouse, which sends thrills through you...

One hand on the mirror steadying yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. Your other hand on his shoulder.

You kiss again. His hands on your hips, guiding you up and down, beads of sweat rolling down your forehead.

He starts rubbing your clit making you moan, you started squeezing your cunt around his cock, making him groan as he starts to shake...

You can feel your orgasm getting closer and closer, and from the look on his face he isn’t far off either.

"The plane will begin its descent in ten minutes, please return to your seats" came over the tannoy. It was now or never, you grind your pussy down hard onto him, his pubic hair tickling your clit and triggering your orgasm..

You come hard; the contractions of your cunt sets off his climax. You come together, his cock filling your pussy with hot white cum. He lets out a long moan, your head buried in his shoulder, muffling your screams of pleasure.

You take a moment to catch your breath before you stand up and he helps clean you up and rearrange your skirt down, gives you a quick kiss and shoves you out of the bathroom into the corridor.

Walking in a straight line after such an intense orgasm is a challenge but you manage to get back to your seat. By the time you check your make-up and straightened your blouse he was back in the seat next to you.

When you disembark the plane, he walks straight past you and gets into a car that’s waiting for him.

'There he goes' you think 'The best fuck of my life.'

You smooth your skirt down and stop, feeling something, so you reach into the pocket of your skirt and pull out a business card, Andrew Barber; Assistant District Attorney. His cell phone number is written on the back, along with the hotel he was staying at and room number.

'I know what I'm doing tonight' you think to yourself smiling.

THE END

Tags: @cevansbaby-dove @patzammit

[littlemissaddict]

So this is inspired by a video I came across on tiktok where a guys girlfriend asked him to come dance in the rain and it was so adorable watching how excited he was that I couldn’t help myself.

Also this was originally a Steve blurb but I changed my mind right before posting.

It was the very unlike Eddie giggling that alerted both Robin and Steve that something was up, we'll that and how he jumped up from the couch in the middle of the movie to run to his room. Both Robin and Steve shared an equally confused look as they could hear Eddie shuffling about in his room, the closet door opening and closing and his still excited giggles.

"Dude what?!" Steve asks as Eddie finally re-emerges from his room, still wearing the black ripped jeans but his band shirt had been switched to a white shirt tucked into said jeans with the top few buttons undone. Robin and Steve share a look at the button-up, both completely unaware that that was something Eddie owned.

"It's like something out of a movie can you believe it?" He smiles wide as he bounces on the spot.

"What is? You're gonna have to give us a bit more," Robin rolls her eyes at Eddie's complete obliviousness to their confusion.

He holds his phone out, "she messaged look" he tells them, phone shaking about too much for them to actually read, "it's raining.... come dance with me" he's practically vibrating with happiness as he pulls to phone away from them just as quick and tucking it into his jeans pocket. "Can you believe it?" He repeats again, spinning on the spot like some lovesick teenager.

"Who?" Steve asks, confused still as he doesn’t recall Eddie seeing anyone and he's sure he would've heard about it.

"His girlfriend" Robin confirms, fighting the urge to laugh at how Steve's eye comically widen in surprise, "I'll catch you up later" she adds, laughing to herself at just how oblivious her best friend could be to those around him, as she turns back to Eddie who was now fussing over where his keys were. "In the bowl by the door" she smiles with a shake of her head.

"Thanks, gotta go" he waves as he makes a beeline for the front door.

"Well that was something" Robin chuckles as Steve hums in agreement, eager to know more about this girlfriend he's heard nothing about.

It's a couple of hours before Eddie returns, and when the door opens Robin and Steve are quick to turn to him. A rather damp Eddie dramatically slides down the door to the floor when he sees them, a smile on his face that he doesn’t think could ever be wiped away, its going to be his new normal he thinks.

"That good?!" Steve asks as if Eddie's appearance is not enough to tell.

"Yeah we need details" Robin adds.

"I-I I can't even speak it was just ahhh" he shakes his head as he gets up, the past few hours replaying in his head as he feels the butterflies fluttering in his tummy again. "Amazing, insane, god it was fucking unforgettable" he says finally after shutting the door and going them in the living room again.

"Sooo," Robin encourages hoping to get something, anything from him right now, planing on living through him for a moment considering she's single af right now.

"We were under the rain, in front of the car with the lights, you know like in movies where the light just illuminates the rain and it looks to cool, so pretty," he speaks, his words fumbling as he tries to emphasise just how amazing the moment was. "We were hugging, swaying together with the stereo turned all the way up you know," he adds trying to imitate the movements, "and then we kissed and then..." his mouth running a mile a minute until he's interrupted by Robin.

"If this is going were I think your going then I'm gonna need you to stop" she holds her hand up as she says it getting a pout in response, "I know I said we need details but not those type" she explains herself to which Steve pipes up,

"I need those details," he nods, "later though" he adds after a glare from Robin.

"It's just I can't put into words the feeling, it's just taking over but I'm so, so happy" Eddie sighs, dropping onto the couch and melting into the cushions with that same face splitting grin on his face.

"Sound like your in love love" Robin teases.

"Yeah this is dangerous man" Steve agrees with a chuckle, "happy for you though man" he adds as they leave Eddie alone to bask in his post date bliss.

And fin! If anyone wants me to write up the date let me know and I just might 🤪

[gvenevera]

Kuroshitsuji Musical ~ 寄宿学校の秘密 (Secrets of the Boarding School) 2024 ~ VERA’S REVIEW!

Yes you read that right! I’ve had the most fateful chance to watch the very first performance of the newest Kuromyu in Hyogo last Saturday, so I figured I’ll eternalize some of my best memories here.

Before we begin: the LIVE STREAMING is available for the LAST PERFORMANCE, September 29th 2024, HERE! For only 3800 yen, you’ll get to watch it live at home, or watch it later for up to 1 week (October 6th)! Apparently you need a Japanese VPN though, if anyone knows how to navigate the site, please do share.

A few disclaimers from me:

*Anti-shippers DNI. This post barely has any shipping content at all but I don’t like people who harass others over fictional preferences. I’m a shipper, I can’t help being biased for my OTPs.

**Since photos were prohibited in the venue, I’ve included stage pictures featured in official news websites or accounts.

***This is by no means a critical review but merely a fangirl’s ramblings, and I often drew comparisons to the original stage play Kuroshitsuji Musical: Secrets of the Boarding School (2021). For reference, I suggest you watch it first! I intentionally avoided rewatching the 2021 version close to the airing date though, so my memories may not be accurate. Also my Japanese is mediocre so I apologize if there were important dialogues I didn’t catch.

Introduction

I know, sorry for the dilly-dally intro. But I’d like to first stress that ever since I started following Kuroshitsuji in my first year of university (like 9 years ago now lmao), I’ve ALWAYS dreamed to watch the stage musical live in person. When 2024’s performance was announced immediately after the last episode of the anime, I was overjoyed to see that our old cast was coming back.

And it was fate that gave me the opportunity - my scheduled work program this year was set to be in Kyoto AND during September! Needless to say, I had the Kuromyu ticket bought and reserved first, before my confirmation with the Kyoto office or my visa and plane ticket. Priorities, right?

Quick remark on the ticket process: I hit a snag right in the beginning because the ticket reservation website Eplus required a Japanese phone number to sign up. I contacted multiple people (middle school friend whose brother used to work in Japan, another who was quarter-Japanese, several dealer websites with high rate exchanges), until I settled on my roommate’s friend from high school who was currently working there. Many thanks to her and my roommate for the help!

She took care of registration for me - even so the advance sales was a LOTTERY ticket! We fortunately got the lucky draw - I saw many Japanese fans on X who were not so lucky, while others bought in bulk to sell later. Then, I used the online barcode to exchange for a paper ticket when I arrived in Japan on September 1st. That’s when I get to know my seat number - 3rd floor, 2nd row B. A very far position from the stage, but it’s alright because we’re here for the atmosphere anyway!

The performances for the first 2 days were set in Hyogo Performing Arts Center, KOBELCO grand hall. I’ve honestly never been to any kind of music performance (or even concerts) in my life, so I was blown away by the sheer size of the venue.

By 10 AM, the audience was trickling in. I was in awe of the fact that you can tell who was coming in to watch kuromyu - beautiful women dressed in black-and-white tones, many even sporting gothic lolita bows and dresses to keep up with the Victorian England theme. In fact, it felt like the whole of Ikebukuro were gathered here in this very building!

We were ushered into the hall entrance at 11 AM and let me tell you, the crowd was suffocating! In front of the theater, there was a goods section for Kuromyu merch. I’m so glad I took the time to queue up because it seems some of the merch were starting to sell out by the second day. The booth clerk looked perplex to see a non-Japanese customer here though. Here’s how the line looked like, and this was still early before most of the audiences got in:

(We’re not supposed to take any photos but I saw the warning signs too late…Here’s a view from where I was sitting on the third floor.)

I realized then as we were settling in that some ladies around me had binoculars!! Well how was I supposed to know you could bring those here, instead of trying to find those fancy opera glasses!?! Ah well, I was lucky that I’d recently had my prescription glasses updated and the seat to my left was vacant, so I could lean in to see the center better.

The Performance

While it is true that you can barely see the actors’ faces from the balcony seats, it was the grandness of the performance itself that blew me away. For the first time I could see the stage in all its entirety, all the actors dancing in synchronization, and the special effects…oh it had improved A LOT from 3 years prior!

The stage sets for Weston may look a tad “crowded” in the still photo, as compared to the original where they used white backgrounds but in reality, it blended in so prettily with the flashing stage lights. The middle section was a rotating floor and one of my memorable scenes was where Ciel and Sebastian were discussing their plans while crossing the rotating stage, to give the illusion of “strolling across the school grounds.” Sounds like a simple trick but if looked amazing from above.

On to the story itself - the execution actually barely changed from the 2021 rendition, which for me, was a relief! Now I know, some would argue a rerun should add in different elements, because who would want to see the same thing twice right? From past experiences with Kuromyu, the reruns tend to be hit or miss - different actors, different song remixes, voice changes, and so on. For this performance, I could barely tell that the cast (apart from Ciel, Sebastian and Undertaker) were all new members. Everyone got into character flawlessly!

The story of course followed the entirety of the Public School Arc. The script and choreography was almost identical to the 2021 stage musical version. If you would remember, this Kuroshitsuji arc was the first to be portrayed on stage before the anime adaptation - same as previously, they seemed to take inspiration from the manga only rather than the anime.

Some key moments from the play:

The opening sequence was again a recap of the previous arcs - Jack the Ripper (Lycoris that Blazed the Earth), Book of Circus (Noah’s Ark Circus), Book of the Atlantic (Tango on the Campania). I’ve always loved this part because you could tell they slipped in iconic themes from the past musicals.

Perfect Black: the main theme, and my favorite from this stage! I’m so happy to have heard it live! *swoons* Thank god they didn’t do anything weird to remix it. The whole cast dancing together was beautiful! However I thought 2021 did it better with the dramatic light focus on Sebastian during the chorus drop.

Ciel’s Earl of Phantomhive outfit was changed from the glittery blue suit to a blue-green checkered coat this year. (I’d have bought his Earl photoshoot set if I knew it beforehand) Yana-sensei later tweeted that she was the one to re-design it, to better match Eito. Then Eito Konishi himself replied, saying he was honored to play as Ciel Phantomhive, to which Yana-sensei praised his singing and called him “Eito-bocchan” …boy was he fanboying hard over that. He’s one of us!!

Arrival at Weston: I don’t have a comment on the P4 in particular, they were all straightforward from the manga. I think I like Redmond’s character the most here, he looked very pretty with the side-ponytail and while he was a show-off still, he wasn’t as annoying or arrogant as I somehow expected.

A notable interaction: Violet forcing Greenhill to pose for him at the swan gazebo. Greenhill’s actor really looked strained trying to keep an upside down bridge pose (Edward was supporting his back, but kept getting distracted). When he broke the pose and got up, Violet hit him over the head with his sketchbook so hard that the thump echoed through the hall.

As for the Prefect’s Fags: Edward and Cheslock were giving off some suspiciously gay rivals-to-lovers vibes over here. Which I kinda vibed with, I hope they kept the energy into the Blue Cult Arc!

One important thing: they kept the ALL the Fag lines! Which in Japanese accent also kinda sounded like them repeatedly calling each other “Fućk”. Oh how I wish the anime had kept those!

Soma Asman Kadar: now this guy deserves an ovation just for himself. Not only did he kill the role, he was also the funniest! Soma’s song was greatly improved and lengthened with catchier music and dancing - when his troupe “arrived” at Weston, he even dragged Ciel and Clayton to join in. I can’t do it justice, you have GOT to see those two English gentlemen crack the Indian dance moves! His pestering of Maurice Cole was hilarious and he kept exasperating Ciel out of his character, their chemistry was wonderful. I really didn’t expect to get hooked by Soma in this arc out of all people! Too bad Agni wasn’t here.

Maurice Cole’s miniarc - Flawless. Sometimes I wonder if he was an easy character to play just because his character trait is so extremely over-the-top lol.

The library kabedon scene and sebaciel burning Purple House scene didn’t exist. Another scene cut off from the last musical was where Clayton and the Blue House kids were congratulating Ciel on his fag duties and Sebastian took the chance to blend in with them. Sadly that was one of my favorite adlibs.

Ciel’s dream sequence: this was originally in the 2021 musical. After a talk with Macmillain made him revisit his past trauma, Ciel “dreamed” of the cultists, and Sebastian’s close call with Undertaker in BotA. I actually forgot about this part when I watched it in theater - the highlight was sebaciel reenacting the scene in BotA where they reached for each other, the enactment surprisingly gave me the impression of Ciel’s “worry” over Sebastian’s “vulnerability” here. Unlike the 2021 version though, Undertaker didn’t pull Ciel into a bridal carry or referenced the R!Ciel wake-up scene as clearly.

The second half after the break was the long-awaited Cricket Match. Like the previous version, there was no scene of Ciel jumping into Master Michaelis’ arms, but I think they just couldn’t fit that one into the sequence. The cricket songs were mostly the same as the original - with an improvement being them cutting out Red House’s random beauty pageant contest. It actually felt like the cricket match went by faster this time, which was a win in my book. I’ve heard people complain of Kuromyu 2021 being a “Prince of Cricket” musical, hence the bad reviews back then.

The laxative meat pie scene was hilarious. From Sebastian faking it as a student complete with Red House’s uniform, to the team’s diarrhea horrors. Redmond stole the show again, as he was going to help Harcourt in the middle of the field, but tragedy struck which made him deadpan: “Oh. Someone get Harcourt.” Then immediately left the stage lol. The Blue House kids lifted Harcourt out.

The Green vs Purple house battle was the same as last time. I always felt bad to see Cheslock being the only Purple kid doing his best because without any support member cast while Violet was sitting in the grass. But this time, he gave Cheslock a tree sculpture of his bust as a good-job reward! Good for them.

Lastly Green vs Blue. They incorporated the rotating stage again in the last batting when Greenhill accidentally hit Ciel. The end of the match cut straight to the Thames Boat Ride, then they did the Blue House cheering scene after. Sebastian finally got to do his signature bridal carry, awww.

Midnight tea party: the setting was even more beautiful than last time. Undertaker letting his hair fall from his hat was iconic as usual. I was impressed with Master Agares’ fight scenes because his actor looked quite older than his 2021 predecessor. I always liked how they did Derrick Arden’s death in the musical, it felt more anguished from the P4 POV while in the anime, it just felt like a gruesome horror scene.

Final musical number was Ciel-Sebastian-Undertaker chorus during their fight in the garden. Music and choreography seemed to be similar, EXCEPT they somehow changed the iconic “Your life is my priority” scene!!! 2021’s version had me hold my breath as Sebastian had his arm possessively hooked around Ciel and took off his glove with his teeth (seriously, you have to see it yourself). This time they had Sebastian and Ciel reenact the scene on the highest stage instead of front and center, and I didn’t feel as much suspense nor was there any glove-removal from what I could see. It was also a weird placement because they were so far away, and Undertaker should’ve been the one on the top as he did his goodbye pose holding the moon.

We end the story with Sebastian recapping the aftermath with Weston’s students, and finally sebaciel’s conversation back at the manor. Again, Ciel reiterates that Sebastian is the only one who could never lie nor betray his trust. Perfect Black came on as an outro, and I got chills when Sebastian ended the last verse on a raised note!

The curtain call was the experience I’d waited for. Somehow I only realized just then that the actors would do the full call during their finale performance, which was what we got to see in the recordings! That day, after the cast bowed twice, the exit announcement immediately came on but guess what? The audience, including myself, kept clapping all the way through the announcement, it went for so long that the cast actually came out to take another bow! As they returned on stage, most of us also stood up for a standing ovation - according to twitter this doesn’t seem to be a regular occurrence outside of the finale. It felt like a truly wholesome “welcome back” for the troupe and for Kuromyu, especially after the rather harsh criticisms from the previous stage (due to major cast and style changes, even I took a while to bring myself to watch it) and the long break due to the COVID years.

Overall summary

Kuroshitsuji Musical 2024 was a faithful rerun of its predecessor. They succeeded with the musical numbers, new cast, overall adaptation of the story. The settings, props and special effects were wonderfully upgraded. The original cast carried the show: Eito Konishi’s singing felt greatly improved and I thought he carried himself as more mature than his last performance as Ciel. Sebastian’s Toshiki Tateishi had a mesmerizing voice the more I listened to him, he never went out of breath even while dancing or fighting - truly vocals fit for the troupe leader. Kandai Ueda did well as his own Undertaker too, even with Undertaker’s peculiar accent.

My few complaints: I felt like the P4 cast (bar Redmond) could do to have more distinction in their tones and movements. It felt hard to distinguish who was talking at times. The performance seemed to have a faster pacing this time around, and you get less absorbed in certain conversations between the characters, so I wished they’d added in slow scenes here and there. And of course I miss the signature sebaciel moments that I’ve mentioned - granted, this manga arc had always been my least favored because of the lack of sebaciel interactions anyway! So I’d say they did the best with the source material.

While I enjoyed seeing my favorite production performed live with the music blasting through my eardrums, it was the atmosphere that truly made the experience for me. Sitting in the 4-storeys grand hall full of some 2000 Kuroshitsuji fans really pulled me back in time, especially during the standing ovation. I’m so happy to see my favorite series so loved after all these years. I’m sure Yana-sensei could feel it too.

I wish a successful performance for the cast going forward to Tokyo, and hopeful for many more musicals to come!