#all this stuff has been going on my whole life for over two decades

[magicfootballstuff]

Best Mate (georgia stanway x reader) 

Summary: Georgia is your entire world, the love of your life. But you’re probably never going to be more than just her best mate.

(aka 12k words of angst and pining)

———

You’ve known Georgia since you were eleven.

Thirteen years in which you’ve been the closest of friends, through ups and downs. Thirteen years of playing for the same football teams, of carpooling to training and movie nights after matches and sharing rooms on away trips. Thirteen years, basically, in which you could have fallen in love with each other.

There’s a strange kind of irony, a punishment from the fates, that the first time you start to think of Georgia as anything more than your best mate is about three weeks before she moves to Germany.

You blame the Euros, naturally. That’s where you start to catch feelings. A long pre-Euro preparation camp, followed by weeks of heightened emotions as the Lionesses progress further and further into the tournament. It’s been a bonding experience for you all and you’re far closer to all the girls than you were a couple of months ago, but there’s been a shift in your relationship with Georgia specifically that you can’t quite explain.

It’s after the game against Spain that you first notice it. After coming back from behind, Georgia is the one who scores the winner to send you through to the semi finals and it might be the best goal you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing live. It’s not just the goal - you’ve seen Georgia score screamers from outside the box on countless other occasions in your thirteen years of friendship - but the significance too.

It’s after this game that you actually start to believe you can win the whole tournament, that nothing is going to stop you until you get your hands on the silverware. And that belief starts with Georgia’s goal.

“I fucking love you, G!” you tell her in the dressing room after the game, still riding the euphoric high of beating Spain in such dramatic fashion.

Georgia grins at you.

“I love you too.”

Her words make you feel warm inside but you put it down to being happy about the result.

It’s not until later, lying alone in your bed back at the team hotel, unable to sleep because you’re still so pumped up from one hundred and twenty minutes of difficult football, that you hear Georgia’s words over and over again in your head and realise what it means.

I love you too.

Shit. You’re falling in love with Georgia Stanway. Your best mate.

What a cliche.

But you’ve spent thirteen years of friendship not being in love with Georgia. It should be pretty easy to brush any hypothetical feelings aside. Right?

———

It’s not. 

Actually, it turns out that acknowledging you have feelings for Georgia only makes them grow more.

You sit next to her on the coach on the way back from Bramall Lane after beating Sweden in the semi final. Around you, the whole team is jubilant, but all you can think about is how you can smell Georgia’s shampoo and feel the warmth of her thigh pressing into yours.

Shit, you’ve got it bad.

“We’re going to Wembley,” Georgia says. “Can you believe it?”

“Stuff of dreams, right?” you grin at her.

“And I get to do it with my best mate.”

The words ‘best mate’, while true, are like a knife to your heart and you’re reminded that you’ll only ever be Georgia’s best mate.

You try to shake yourself out of it. You’ve been Georgia’s friend for over a decade, you can keep being her friend, no problems at all. Because surely it’s better to be her friend than to risk messing things up and being nothing at all?

Except that she moves to Munich in two weeks. What if she loves it there, what if she prefers her new teammates to the old ones, what if she has such a good time there that she completely forgets about her old life in Manchester?

And you hate yourself for even thinking that. Georgia deserves to be happy. You know how excited she is to move abroad, how much she’s looking forward to the challenge of playing for a new team in a new league after spending so long at Manchester City. As her friend, you want the best for her, you want her to thrive in the new environment and be happy with her Bayern teammates as she settles into life in Munich.

You just hope that she doesn’t forget about you in the process.

“You’re quiet,” Georgia says, drawing you out of your own thoughts. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shrug, then give a half truth.

“Just trying to soak this moment in,” you tell her. “This feels special. No matter what happens in the final, I don’t want to forget the feeling of being part of this team.”

“I’m never gonna forget this,” Georgia says, sinking into your side and when she lets her head fall against your shoulder, you allow yourself just the briefest moment to imagine that she’s talking about this exact moment on the bus with you, not the summer of incredible football. “Would be pretty cool to win the damn thing though, right? One more trophy together before I leave.”

You never want this summer to end. Because as soon as it ends, Georgia leaves and you lose your best mate. You lose the person you’re in love with.

You have a feeling that this moment is going to be one that you come back to over and over again when you’re missing her, and you try even harder to commit every detail to memory.

———

Inevitably, the tournament does come to an end, but in the blur of playing an intense final at Wembley, winning said final, and the celebrations that continue long into the night, you almost forget that this is one of your last nights together with Georgia before she leaves for Germany.

Eventually, you and Georgia find your way back to each other, as you always seem to do. You have no idea what time it is, no idea how many drinks you’ve had, but it’s the early hours of the morning and most friends and family have either left or gone to bed, leaving just the players to continue their celebrations. You can still hear distant music and the occasional shout from downstairs, but you end up on the carpeted floor of a deserted hallway, side by side with Georgia. You’re sitting so close that the thighs of your outstretched legs are touching, and Georgia leans her head on your shoulder. You're holding hands too, though you don’t know who initiates that. Maybe it just happened because it felt right.

“I’m so proud of you, G,” you tell her, tracing your thumb across the back of her hand. “For everything - for today, for everything you did at City, for choosing to take a leap in your career.”

Georgia has hardly spoken about her impending transfer since it was announced, not while she’s been so focused on the tournament, and other than a couple of jokes this evening hoping that her new teammates will still welcome her after beating so many of them today, it’s been easy to pretend that she’s not about to move to another country. But now that the tournament is over, you have to face up to the reality sooner or later that your best friend is about to spread her wings and embark on a new journey that doesn’t involve you.

“Stop it, you’re gonna make me cry. And we’re supposed to be happy right now. We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

“I’m gonna miss you though. Bayern are lucky to have you.”

Your hand is still in Georgia’s, fingers linked together, though you don’t remember how it happened, whether it was you who took her hand or her who took yours. But her skin is so soft, especially on the back of her hand where you trace mindless patterns with your thumb.

“You’re still gonna be my favourite though, you know that right?” Georgia promises you.

“I am?” you ask, turning your head to look at her.

“Yeah, you’re my day one. Even when we live in different countries. I’m still gonna be talking to you every day.”

“I’m gonna be thinking about you every day,” you confess. “Every second, even.”

It’s only after the words slip from your lips that you realise you might have said too much, that you’re getting dangerously close to telling Georgia about the feelings that you promised yourself that you were going to keep secret.

“Yeah?” Georgia asks, her voice barely more audible than a whisper.

And just like the hand-holding, you have no idea who initiates what comes next, you’re just aware that your lips are on Georgia’s, or maybe hers are on yours, but who the fuck cares who leant in first when it feels this damn good.

Her lips are as soft as her hands, softer maybe, and she tastes like a combination of the free beer you’ve been drinking all night and something else, maybe optimism, if such a thing has a taste. But you’re very quickly unable to process much at all, senses overwhelmed, because Georgia is kissing you. Georgia, who you’ve been friends with since you were awkward teenagers with spotty faces and bruised knees, whose kisses are like a drug that you’re surely going to get addicted to because how could you not want to do this forever?

Just when you’re considering the logistics of pulling Georgia into your lap to continue this further, she pulls away from you, giggling as she wipes at her lips with captivating fingers.

“Shit, I’ve had way too much to drink,” Georgia says. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

She leans her head back against the wall behind you both, her eyes closed, and you try to keep yourself together, though your heart feels like a fragile sheet of glass that could shatter under even the tiniest amount of pressure.

“It’s fine,” you tell her, even though your lips still burn from her kiss. Even though you’re probably never going to be the same again. “We’re both drunk.”

———

The next morning, Georgia is wearing the most ridiculous pair of sunglasses you’ve ever seen, so huge that they mask half her entire face, but maybe that’s the intention because when she sits down next to you on the coach that’s supposed to take you to Trafalgar Square, she lets out a groan and says, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungover in my life.”

“I think I’m still drunk,” you admit. Your head isn’t pounding, it’s just swimming, the alcohol not yet worn off out of your system. It’ll hit you at some point today, you’re sure of that, and it’ll be torture. 

“Did I kiss you last night?” Georgia asks, pushing the sunglasses up onto the top of her head and frowning quizzically at you.

The way she asks, it’s almost like she doesn’t quite remember, and that stings a little. It’s pretty much the only thing you’ve thought about in the five drunken hours since it happened.

“Oh,” you say, trying to sound just as casual about it as Georgia does. “Yeah. I’d forgotten about that until you mentioned it.”

The lie is easy because there’s no way that you’re going to admit how affected you are by something as simple as the memory of her lips on yours.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Georgia grimaces. “Emotional day, and all that. We’re still cool, aren’t we?”

“Course we are,” you answer, and it’s mostly the truth - Georgia could commit a serious crime and you’d still think she was the best person on earth.

She’s got no reason to know the depth of your feelings for her, no reason to understand that kissing you might have done more damage than if you’d never got the chance to feel Georgia’s lips against yours at all.

———

You decide to confide in Keira.

“I think I’m in love with Georgia,” you confess, during pre-season, still ignoring the rumours that Keira might be moving abroad soon too.

“Our Georgia?” she asks for clarification, as if the idea is so ridiculous that she can’t quite believe what you’re telling her. “Georgia Stanway?”

You nod, and Keira presses on with her next question.

“Have you told her?” she asks.

“Why would I do that?” you scoff.

“Why wouldn’t you? What have you got to lose?”

“Only thirteen years of friendship,” you point out.

“Obviously it’s your decision, but worst case scenario she doesn’t feel the same and things carry on as normal.”

“Worst case scenario I lose one of the longest friendships I’ve got,” you interject to correct Keira.

“G’s not like that though,” Keira dismisses your worries with a wave of her hand. “She wouldn’t just cast you aside because of something like this. Anyway, she’s in a different country now. By the time you next see each other she’ll have forgotten all about it and things will be back to normal.”

“I’ll think about it.”

———

You do think about it. In fact, it’s pretty much all you think about.

One international break passes, then another, without you saying anything to Georgia about how you feel. You’re practically glued to her side for the whole of both camps, or maybe she’s glued to yours, because you somehow seem to end up alongside her even when you’re making an effort to not seem like you’re obsessed with her.

That plan clearly isn’t working, because on the penultimate night of the second international break, Keira brings it up when the two of you are alone.

“You’re not being subtle,” she tells you.

“Huh?”

“About G,” she explains. “If you think it’s not obvious you have feelings for her, you’re wrong.”

“Yeah but I’ve told you,” you point out, in a half-hearted attempt to justify the way you’ve probably been staring at Georgia with huge puppy dog eyes for the last week. “You know what you’re looking for.”

“Have you told Leah?” Keira asks, arching an eyebrow. “Because she asked me yesterday if you and Georgia were closer than usual so she’s noticed something too.”

“What did you say?” you demand, your eyes widening in panic.

“Don’t worry, I told her you used to be inseparable at City and that you probably just missed seeing each other every day. I think she bought it.”

You relax, or at least you try to, because if Keira says it’s obvious and even Leah has noticed your heart-eyes, then it can’t be long before Georgia herself realises, and then she’ll surely want to distance herself from you.

“Just talk to her,” Keira pleads with you. “You’re one of my best mates too and I hate seeing you like this. Even if nothing happens between you and Georgia, at least you’ll get closure by talking to her.”

You know that Keira is right. You’ve known Georgia for so long that you’d like to hope she won’t make things weird if you tell her how you feel and she doesn’t feel the same. You need an answer, so you can get over your feelings if nothing is ever going to happen.

And you fully intend to talk to her on the last night of camp. But you have a game tomorrow so you decide not to say anything for the risk of somehow upsetting the equilibrium of the team, and then before you know it Georgia is on a plane back to Munich while you return to Manchester and still nothing has been said.

Another time.

In the meantime, your heart continues to ache for something you’ll probably never get to have.

———

You’ll tell her when she comes home for Christmas, that’s what you decide. No England camp, no training or matches to use as an excuse for not telling her how you feel. Just two old friends catching up on what’s been going on in their lives - and so what if one of the most important thing that’s going on in yours is the depth of the feelings you currently have for your best friend?

You’re nervous for two full days before you see Georgia, your heart pounding each time you think of the enormity of the conversation you need to have with her. Telling her how you feel could change everything for better or for worse and even right up to the moment when you’re on your way to meet her, you’re still not sure if you have the courage to actually tell her.

You meet Georgia for lunch at Jill’s coffee shop, because Georgia’s only in Manchester for a few days before she jets off to Barcelona to see Keira and she wants to see as many people as she can while she’s back, but once you’ve both shared a bit of playful banter with Jill when she brings you your food and drinks, the two of you are left alone in a quiet corner of the shop.

“I’ve been dying to tell you something,” Georgia says, almost as soon as Jill leaves you alone. “I was gonna text you but I really wanted to tell you in person.”

She loves you too. That’s the first conclusion that your brain jumps to, because you can’t think of anything else she might have to tell you that’s important enough to be said face-to-face rather than over the phone.

She loves you too. She loves you t-

“I’m seeing someone,” Georgia announces.

And just like that, your heart shatters into a million tiny pieces.

She doesn’t love you.

“You are?” you ask, trying not to let the pain show on your face - this is supposed to be your best friend telling you that she’s found somebody, after all, and if you weren’t hopelessly in love with Georgia yourself, you’d surely be happy about this development in her life.

“Yeah, a guy back in Germany. His name’s Nico - he’s one of Syd’s mates so I met him through her. It’s still really new, like he’s not my boyfriend or anything, but we’ve been on a couple of dates and I think it’s going pretty well.”

“Cool,” you say, and then immediately kick yourself, because what kind of heartless idiot says cool when their best friend announces they’re dating someone, which is why you add, “I’m so happy for you.”

There’s a degree of truth to your words. Though on a selfish level you want Georgia to reciprocate your feelings and be happy with you, that’s not very likely to happen when you’re too much of a coward to tell her how you feel and obviously the most important thing is that Georgia is happy with whoever she chooses. You just hope that if it can’t be with you, that this Nico guy at least treats her well and gives her the happiness she deserves.

“Anyway, what’s going on with you?” Georgia asks, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. “Any big life updates?”

If there was ever a moment to tell Georgia that you’re in love with her, it would be now, when she’s inviting you to open up about what’s been going on in your life. But Georgia is clearly excited about this guy that she’s dating, or else she wouldn’t have waited until she saw you in person before making it the first thing she brought up, and what kind of friend would you be if you tried to ruin that for your own selfish reasons?

“Nothing much,” you answer with a shrug. “Nothing as exciting as your news. Anyway, tell me about Munich. Are the German lessons still kicking your arse?”

———

Keira calls you a few days later, when you know that Georgia is in Barcelona too, probably sharing the same news about her dating life with Keira that she told you the other day.

“You’ve seen G, then?” she asks, once you’ve caught up on your own lives.

“Yeah, we had lunch together a few days ago.”

“Did she tell you…?”

“About her new boyfriend?” you interject, completing Keira’s question. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Keira asks.

You can practically hear the pity in her voice and it cuts you almost as much as Georgia’s news about her dating life.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you try to dismiss it quickly, before you end up getting upset, or angry, or both. “She’s happy, that’s all that matters. I missed my chance.”

“Did you ever tell her?”

Keira doesn’t need to elaborate on exactly what she’s asking about and for that you’re grateful.

“No,” you answer. “But it’s too late now anyway.”

“I don’t think it is,” Keira counters. “It doesn’t sound very serious yet with this German guy.”

“Keira, if there was any chance she felt the same she’d have told me.”

“You mean like you’ve told her how you feel?” Keira asks.

Though you can’t actually see Keira’s face, you can picture it, one eyebrow arched at you and mouth twitching at the corners as she calls you out.

“It’s different,” you try to argue. “She wouldn’t be dating someone else if she had feelings for me.”

“Well if you aren’t ever going to tell her, maybe you should think about dating someone else. You know, a couple of the Barca girls are single. If you don’t mind the distance, I could put in a good word for you.”

There’s only one person you’d be willing to put in the effort required for a successful long distance relationship, and it’s Georgia. Besides, while Keira’s right that you’ll have to think about dating someone else eventually, it doesn’t feel fair to mess with somebody else’s feelings before you’ve at least tried to put your feelings for Georgia behind you.

“I’m good, thanks Ke,” you promise Keira.

“Well if you change your mind…”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

———

You don’t change your mind. Not about being willing for Keira to set you up with one of her club teammates, at least. You do, however, reconsider your decision not to tell Georgia about how you feel.

What can the harm be? If anything, the German boyfriend is a safety net because you have less optimism that Georgia feels the same, fully prepared for her to let you down. 

You phone Georgia when she’s back in Germany in January, entering the conversation with your heart already wrapped in bubble-wrap, in theory protected from being broken.

“Hey G, are you busy?”

“I’m never too busy to talk to you,” Georgia replies.

Your heart soars, giving you the courage to say, “Cool, well there’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Go on, I’m listening.”

“I was gonna say something when you were back in England but then you … well, you had your news and I didn’t want to ruin that.”

You pause and take a deep breath, glad that you’re doing this over the phone so that Georgia can’t see the sheer physical anguish you’re going through to psych yourself up to tell her this.

“I love you.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Georgia speaks.

“Aw, you big softie,” she teases you. “Love you too.”

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. Part of you wants to leave it there, the idea of having to correct Georgia’s misunderstanding somehow even worse than having to admit you love her in the first place, but you can hear Keira’s voice in your head telling you to grow a pair and tell Georgia how you really feel.

“No, I … I mean that I love you,” you clarify. “Not just as a friend. Like, I’m properly in love with you.”

“Oh,” Georgia says. There’s silence on the other end of the line as she processes what you’ve told her, before she eventually repeats, “Oh. Shit, okay.”

It’s not exactly the reaction you were hoping for and though you’d prepared yourself for probable rejection, you couldn’t actually have prepared for the punch in the gut that is the pure surprise from Georgia, as if the idea of there being anything more than friendship between the two of you is so far-removed that she’s never once even considered the possibility.

“Forget I said anything,” you say quickly, eager to put this torturous ordeal behind you. “I’m just being stupid. It’s nothing I can’t get over.”

“No, wait!” Georgia blurts out. “It’s not stupid. It’s just … unexpected, I guess. You’ve surprised me, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“No, don’t apologise! I’m glad you told me. The thing is, I do love you too. Just as a friend.”

And despite all the preparation you did beforehand to try to protect yourself from the pain of inevitable rejection, hearing Georgia confirm aloud what you already knew still causes your heart to splinter into tiny pieces. 

“Okay,” you say, trying to swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat. “That’s what I needed to hear. Now I can move on. And I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me-”

“Are you kidding?” Georgia interrupts you. “This doesn’t change anything. It takes courage to tell someone how you feel. I’m not gonna punish you for that. Anyway, you’ll always be super important to me. So unless you need a bit of space…?”

“No,” you’re quick to say. “I don’t need space.”

“Then you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon,” Georgia reassures you.

A single tear spills from your eye and you wipe it away quickly, even though Georgia can’t see you, because you’re worried that if you let it trickle the whole way down your cheek, it’ll be followed by a flood. The only thing that could make this more embarrassing that it already is would be if you burst into tears and Georgia heard you crying.

“Thanks, G.”

———

“I hate to admit it, but you were right,” you tell Keira, as you make your way out to the training pitch at St George’s Park on the first morning of the February international break, a few weeks on from telling Georgia how you feel - how you felt. “I just needed closure.”

“From Georgia?” Keira asks for clarification.

“Yeah. It turns out that finding out she doesn’t feel the same was a really quick way to shut down whatever stupid feelings I thought I had for her.”

“I think you’re being hard on yourself. It’s not stupid to catch feelings, especially for someone like G.”

“It was just emotion from the Euros,” you try to explain. “Then the distance. I was missing her. I got a bit carried away, that’s all. Anyway, she’s got her German guy now.”

“Not anymore,” Keira tells you. “That fizzled out a while ago.”

“It did?” you ask, your head jerking up in surprise when you hear the news. “She never told me that.”

“Yeah, well…” Keira trails off with a grimace, and you don’t need her to finish her sentence to understand what she’s saying.

“Right.”

You probably sacrificed your right to hear about Georgia’s personal life when you attempted to insert yourself into it by confessing your feelings for her. And if you’re completely honest, though you still talk to Georgia pretty often, there has been a slight shift in what you talk about, more superficial football chat and fewer deep conversations about all the other stuff going on in your lives.

Not for the first time since telling Georgia how you felt, you wonder if admitting your feelings was the wrong decision after all.

You hear footsteps behind you, the telltale sound of studs against concrete, and you turn to see Georgia, who inserts herself between you and Keira and drapes an arm around each of your shoulders.

“Hey guys, whatcha talking about?”

“The weather,” Keira is quick to save you the turmoil of having to come up with a lie yourself. “Thought it was cold in Barcelona at this time of year but I’d forgotten how much worse it is in England.”

“This?” Georgia scoffs, gesturing at the bleak grey sky above. “It’s tanning weather. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“You’re mad,” Keira says, shaking her head as she eyes up Georgia’s bare arms.

“Not mad,” Georgia counters with a grin. “Just happy to be back in England with my best mates.”

You don’t know how it makes you feel, hearing Georgia refer to you as a “best mate” again. She’s clearly making an effort to make sure you know that nothing has changed, that your sudden confession of feelings a few weeks ago hasn’t made Georgia think any differently of you than she thinks of Keira. But it still stings a little, all those hours spent wondering what if and picturing a hypothetical parallel universe in which Georgia returns your affection coming to nothing.

In the back of your mind, it registers that a public friendzoning shouldn’t hurt if you were as over your feelings for Georgia as you claimed to Keira that you were, but you push that thought down for now.

———

You don’t actually speak to Georgia alone until later, hanging out in one of the communal recreation areas during the free time you get between a gym session and dinner.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Georgia says. “It’s good to be back together again. And we haven’t seen each other in person since…”

Georgia trails off, leaving you to fill in the rest yourself.

Deciding that the best way to get past the slight awkwardness is just to acknowledge exactly what happened and laugh it off, you say, “Since I told you I liked you?”

Georgia’s eyes widen, slightly surprised that you’re so blasé about the situation, but she passes it off quickly and says, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry if I put you in a weird position,” you apologise. “I just needed to say something, even if you didn’t feel the same way, for peace of mind, you know? Just feelings that had been brewing under the surface since the emotion of the Euros…”

“Since the Euros?” Georgia interjects, surprised once again.

“Yeah, but I don’t feel that way anymore,” you continue, fully aware of the fact that your cheeks are starting to heat up with embarrassment. “I got closure and I moved on. I hope things can go back to normal between us.”

Georgia hesitates for a second, like she’s still trying to process everything, before her face splits open into a huge grin.

“Yeah, of course. Nothing’s changed at all.”

You try to remember what normal friends who haven’t admitted feelings for each other talk about, and your mind immediately wanders to the guy she told you about when she was last home. The guy that, if Keira is to be believed, is no longer in the picture.

“How’s it going with that guy you’re dating?” you ask, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from Georgia too.

“Nico? I’m not seeing him anymore. Like he was nice, but he was … I don’t know, he was just nice. There was no real spark, or nothing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

It’s partially true. If you can’t have Georgia yourself, you want her to be happy with somebody, though you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t done some social media stalking after she told you about him and he didn’t seem like anybody particularly remarkable. In a way, it’s a relief to hear that confirmed by Georgia herself.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Georgia says, dismissing your words with a casual wave of her hand. “It wasn’t serious anyway. And I wanted to tell you it was over but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want you to think I was messing with your feelings, or anything.”

“I get it,” you assure Georgia. “But you don’t have to worry about that. There aren’t any feelings to mess with anymore. That’s all behind me.”

Georgia narrows her eyes just slightly, like she’s not quite sure she believes you, but it passes so quickly that you might have imagined it.

“Cool,” Georgia says. “Anyway, did you see that worldie I scored in training earlier?”

And so the conversation moves on, back to normal with your best friend.

———

It does go back to how it was before, for which you’re relieved. Your biggest worry about admitting your feelings for Georgia was that it would ruin your friendship if she didn’t reciprocate, so you’re glad that you’re still just as close as you were before Christmas.

The problem is that now you’re back to talking to Georgia all the time, whether that’s messaging each other, ganging up together on Leah in the group chat, or FaceTiming to have a general catch up about life, you’re starting to realise that maybe you’re not over your feelings for her after all.

Can you really be blamed? Georgia is like a human ray of sunshine, lighting up your world with her silly jokes and beautiful smile, even from another country.

Surely everybody who meets Georgia falls a little bit in love with her?

Still, Georgia has made it pretty clear that your relationship is never going to move beyond friends, and you’re content to have her in your life in whatever way she’ll allow you, even if you’re still harbouring feelings for her.

You don’t tell Keira either. She asks you about Georgia a couple of times, just casual questions in passing which you respond to with reassurances that you’re getting along like old friends again, that her rejection was enough to extinguish your feelings. If there’s one thing that’s more humiliating than admitting to your best friend that you’re in love with her only to be turned down, it’s having to deal with the constant pity of another friend concerned about a possible broken heart. So you tell Keira that everything is fine and she seems to believe you.

It is fine. You are fine.

(And if you tell yourself that enough times, one day it’ll eventually become true.)

———

You have a plan.

And it’s not a plan that you’re making because you’re in love with Georgia. It’s a plan for your best mate who lives abroad and you miss dearly.

So when Georgia’s Bayern Munich team draws Arsenal in the quarter final of the Champions League, you go straight to the airport from training on the day of the match and catch the next flight to Munich to watch her play.

As you sit next to Georgia’s mum in the stadium, who makes a comment about how nice it is that her daughter’s best friend has flown all the way from Manchester just to support her in one game, you try telling yourself that you’re not just here for Georgia, that you know Leah and Lotte and several of the other Arsenal girls and you’ve come to watch them too, but as the game progresses you’re only really watching one person. 

You’ve always known that Georgia is good - you’ve played alongside her for more than a decade at England age groups and then at City, watched her put in tackles that others wouldn’t dare to try and score goals from outside the box that would make anybody drool. But there’s a big difference between seeing Georgia play in training or when you’re on the same team as her, and actually watching her play. It’s an exciting match, a close match, with good performances from players on both sides, but you watch Georgia far more than any other players, your eyes tracking her even when she’s off the ball.

Bayern come away with the win, though only just, and you’re already trying to figure out whether you can make it down to London and back in a single night next week for the second leg that promises to be as exciting as the first. For the quality of football, you tell yourself, not just for another chance to see the best friend that you miss terribly.

You watch as Georgia greets the fans, smiling for pictures and signing shirts in the process, slowly making her way along the edge of the pitch until she reaches the area where you are. Her eyes search the crowd, no doubt looking for her mum, but she does a double take when she spots you and you carefully manoeuvre your way forward until you’re close enough to talk to her.

“What are you doing here?” Georgia asks, disbelief in her eyes.

“I’m here to see Leah,” you joke.

“Oh, I’ll just go and fetch her for you then, shall I?” Georgia grins at you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“Have you never heard of a surprise?”

Georgia just rolls her eyes.

“How long are you here for?” she asks.

“Just tonight,” you answer. “I managed to convince Gareth to let me have tomorrow off training so I fly back first thing. I wish I could stay longer, but we’ve got a league game at the weekend.”

“Are you coming next week?” Georgia asks. “To the second leg? At the Emirates?”

“Do you want me to come?”

Georgia nods enthusiastically and says, “Yeah, course I do.” She pauses, then adds, “Only if you want to, though. I know it’s a long way to travel.”

“I’ll be there,” you promise. A wicked smile spreads across your face as you add, “To see Leah again, of course.”

Georgia rolls her eyes and says, “Dickhead.”

“Be nice, Georgia,” Georgia’s mum interjects. “She’s come all this way to see you.”

“Relax, mum, it’s just banter,” Georgia protests. “She knows I love her really.”

Love. That word again. Because Georgia does love you, of that you’re certain, but not in the way you want her to.

But as you look down at your best friend over the barrier that separates the players from the fans, her brown eyes alight and a smile on her face as she stares back at you, you realise that you’ll take Georgia’s love, however much of it there is and in whatever form it comes in, just to see her smile like this.

———

The weather is terrible. Unrelenting rain turns the four hour drive from Manchester to London into a five and a half hour drive with limited visibility on the motorways. The prospect of spending an evening in this torrential downpour for at least the two hours of the match, possibly longer if the game goes to extra time and penalties, is brightened only with the knowledge that you get to see your best friend again just a week after you last saw her.

Unfortunately the game doesn’t go Bayern’s way. Despite bringing in a one goal lead from the first leg, that hard work is quickly undone by two Arsenal goals in quick succession in the first half. You’re largely neutral to the outcome of this game, except that you aren’t because you want to see Georgia succeed, and she seems to double her efforts when Bayern go behind, putting even more into every challenge, every pass, determined not to lose.

You’re kidding yourself if you think you’re a neutral fan in this game because when the final whistle goes and the Arsenal fans start celebrating a hard-fought victory, your heart aches for Georgia and what could’ve been. But Georgia is a ray of sunshine, even in defeat, and still makes time for all the fans.

When you finally get to see her, inside the stadium after she’s showered and changed out of her wet kit, you’re actually more disappointed than she is about the outcome of the game.

“That’s football, isn’t it?” Georgia says with a shrug, after you’ve exchanged a long hug and offered her your commiserations. “Thanks for coming down though. It’s good to see you again. I missed you.”

Her words make your heart flutter and you play it off the only way you know how - with humour.

“It’s only been a week, G,” you remind her, rolling your eyes.

“A week is a long time when we used to see each other every day,” she points out. 

“And whose fault is that?” you tease her.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Georgia rolls her eyes at you. “What are you doing now?”

It’s already late and the drive back to Manchester will be a long one so as much as you want to hang around and cherish every moment with Georgia, you know you need to get on the road soon.

“Gotta drive back home soon,” you tell her.

“To Manchester?” Georgia asks her eyes wide. “Nah, no way I’m letting you drive back through the night, especially not in this weather.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Georgia interrupts you. “I’ll text you the address of our hotel and you can stay with me. Drive back in the morning.”

You’re supposed to have training in the morning and you don’t want to imagine the trouble you’ll get yourself into if you don’t show up. But this is Georgia, and is a bit of a telling off from the coaches not worth spending a bit of extra time with her? Besides, can you not just set an early alarm and drive back home straight to the training ground in the morning? You’re not needed until ten anyway…

“Fine,” you nod, trying to pretend that the decision was harder than it actually was, pretending that you wouldn’t jump off a cliff for Georgia with very little hesitation if she asked you nicely enough. 

———

Georgia meets you in the lobby of her hotel just over thirty minutes later, already dressed in pyjamas with a battered pair of sliders on her feet. She grins when she sees you and reaches straight for your hand, not even bothering with a proper greeting.

“Come on,” Georgia says, dragging you into the lift and pressing the button for the fifth floor. “Before anyone sees you.”

The lift doors rattle shut and it starts to rise. You turn to Georgia and ask, “Is this gonna get you in trouble?”

Georgia grins at you, then replies, “Only if we get caught.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, so loud that Georgia must be able to hear it echoing around the confined elevator too, and you’re not sure if it’s racing from the thrill of trying not to get caught or because Georgia’s hand is still in yours, her warm palm pressed against yours and your fingers tangled together. 

Does Georgia even realise that she’s still holding your hand, or the effect that it’s having on you? Because it’s pretty much all you can think about as the lift ascends, your heart hammering away until the rush of blood in your ears is so strong that you might faint.

The lift can’t reach Georgia’s floor soon enough, but eventually it does arrive and the doors slide open with a soft ping, and then Georgia is dragging you along the carpeted hallway until she reaches the door to her room.

“Shhh,” Georgia hisses as she unlocks the door, ushering you inside as she finally lets go of your hand. “In you go.”

You enter Georgia’s hotel room and she closes the door behind the two of you. It’s a pretty standard room, a large double bed in the middle, a tv screen hanging from the wall beside a door that leads to the adjoining bathroom. Georgia’s suitcase is open on the floor, a few clothes strewn across the floor and the chair in the corner.

“Do you want a shower to warm up?” Georgia asks you. “I can lend you some spare clothes to sleep in.”

“Yeah, sounds nice,” you nod, shivering as you’re reminded that you’re still wearing your rain-soaked clothes from earlier.

Georgia kneels beside her suitcase and rummages around in it until she pulls out a spare pair of shorts with the Bayern logo on them and an oversized t-shirt, which she passes to you as she stands up again.

“Spare towel is on the rail in the bathroom,” she explains. “Pass us your wet clothes when you’ve taken them off and I’ll hang them up to dry.”

You smile your thanks and wander into the bathroom, turning on the hot water of the shower before stripping out of your wet clothes. Wrapping a towel around yourself for warmth and modesty, you open the door just wide enough to pass your clothes through to Georgia, who promises to hang them up by the radiator to dry overnight, before shutting yourself in the bathroom and stepping into the shower to warm up.

You spend longer than you probably need to in the shower but the warm water cascading over your head is more than welcome and it gives you time to think. To think about the fact that you’re here in Georgia’s hotel room, about to spend the night in her bed, wearing her spare clothes, when you should really be halfway up the motorway back to Manchester right now.

For some reason, your conscience warning you against this appears in the form of Keira’s voice.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Keira’s voice asks you in your head. “You’re still trying to get over her. Is this really going to help?”

“It’s fine,” you whisper aloud into the empty bathroom, your words masked by the sound of water hitting the tiles. “We’re just friends and that’s fine.”

It’s far from the first sleepover you’ve had with Georgia. You’ve known each other for well over a decade and spent your teenage years sleeping over at each other’s houses gossiping and giggling well into the night until a parent came in to hush you and urge you to get some sleep. You’ve shared rooms on countless camps before, during tournaments with England or on away trips with Manchester City. And since growing up and getting your own places, there have been movie nights that ended late where it was easier for one of you to stay over instead of driving back late.

In short, you’ve shared a bed with Georgia many times before.

You haven’t shared a bed since you realised you had feelings for her last summer, and definitely not since you admitted those feelings a couple of months ago.

But if Georgia’s comfortable with it, then you shouldn’t have a problem either.

You finally get out of the shower, when you’re completely warmed through and your fingertips are starting to shrivel from being under the water for so long. You dry off and change into the clothes borrowed from Georgia, then spend a bit of time drying your hair with a towel and brushing your teeth using the spare hotel-issued brush still in its plastic wrapper, before you eventually unlock the bathroom door and return to the bedroom.

Georgia is sitting upright in bed looking down at the screen of her phone, bathed in the yellow glow of the bedside lamp. She glances up when she hears the bathroom door open and smiles, whether at the sight of you in her clothes or some other reason, you’re not quite sure. 

“You still like to sleep furthest from the door, right?” she asks, shuffling across to leave plenty of room for you in the bed beside her.

“You gonna protect me from intruders?” you tease her, as you clamber into the empty side of the bed.

Georgia is a few inches shorter than you, but you’ve seen the way she tackles on a football pitch and you have no doubt that she’d do better in a fight than you.

“Course I will,” Georgia grins back at you. “Ready for bed? Can I turn the light off?”

You nod and settle yourself down, adjusting the pillow and pulling the covers up over your shoulders as you roll onto your side. Georgia flicks off the light, then there’s some shuffling on her side of the bed, before you both fall still.

With your eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness, you can’t actually see Georgia more than just a shadow on her side of the bed, but you’re pretty sure she’s lying on her side facing you. 

And that’s when it truly hits you. You’re sharing a bed with Georgia, close enough to touch her, close enough to be able to hear her breathing, but knowing that you can’t do anything about the ache in your chest.

You have no idea how you’re going to calm your mind or your heart enough to be able to fall asleep tonight.

You shiver - whether that’s because you’re still cold or for some other reason like Georgia’s proximity - but it’s enough that she notices.

“Shit, are you still cold?” Georgia whispers into the darkness. 

“No, it’s fine,” you say, but your body betrays you again with another shiver.

“Come here,” Georgia says, though it’s her, not you, that closes the gap between you, shuffling her body closer until she can wrap her arms around you and pull your body against hers. Your feet intertwine at the bottom of the bed, hers warmer than yours, though she makes no complaint. “Nothing warms you up like a little cuddle.”

It’s not just a little cuddle though. This is a cuddle with your best friend who you’re more than a little bit in love with, who is kind enough to let you stay here despite the fact she could get in trouble, who has lent you her clothes and let you use her shower and now offers her arms to keep you warm. Your best friend who can surely now feel as well as hear the pounding of your heart as you nestle your body against hers beneath the covers.

Your eyes have started adjusting to the darkness and now you can see how close her face is to yours, your foreheads separated by barely an inch, and she’s staring right back at you, her warm breath hitting your face with each exhale.

“G…”

You breathe her name into the space between your lips, ready to tell her that you can’t do this, ready to admit that you still have feelings for her and that you need to leave, drive back to Manchester even though it’s the middle of the night and you’ve got no dry clothes, because otherwise you might do something that you regret.

But you don’t get the chance to say anything, because suddenly Georgia’s warm lips are on yours, soft and unmoving and so incredibly tentative, but also so right.

She lingers for a few seconds, then pulls back, her chest rising and falling more deeply than before with each breath, as she asks, “Sorry, I … was that okay?”

“You shouldn’t kiss me if you don’t mean it,” you say, just about ready to combust into tears, such is the intensity of the feelings overwhelming your entire body for the other girl. 

You don’t know what to expect from Georgia, but it’s definitely not what she says next.

“And what if I do mean it?”

Her voice is quiet, her words cautious. You’re so used to Georgia being her usual loud and effervescent self that you barely recognise the tone of her voice, but she sounds almost vulnerable.

“I’m so far gone on you, G,” you admit. “I thought I could get over you but I can’t. I need you to know that you could shatter my heart and stamp on all the tiny pieces and I’d still want to be yours. And if there’s even the smallest part of you that doesn’t mean it, then we should forget that ever happened and…”

You don’t get to finish your sentence because Georgia’s mouth is on yours again, hotter and more insistent this time. You gasp as she kisses you and her mouth opens too, her hand coming up to cup your jaw as her tongue swipes past your lips. The sound you let out is involuntary and you would be embarrassed, if not for the fact that you can’t think of anything except Georgia - her lips on yours, her body wrapped around you, her hands burning your skin.

Eventually, breathing becomes a necessity and Georgia must agree because she pulls back, though only far enough to lean her forehead against yours as she says, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You think?” you ask, needing Georgia to be absolutely certain before you let yourself hope.

“I’m pretty sure,” Georgia corrects herself. “I’m still figuring it out but I’ve been thinking about it ever since you told me you liked me, and then when you showed up in Munich last week to surprise me … nobody’s ever done something like that for me before. And I can’t imagine anyone else making me feel the way that you do. You’re so much more to me than just a best mate. You’re … you’re everything to me.”

“Do you really mean it?”

Georgia nods.

“Whatever I have to do to convince you I mean it…”

“Just hold me,” you tell her, pushing your body further into hers and nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck.

“Just hold you?” Georgia asks, her hand squeezing your hip, and though you can’t see her face, you can picture the smirk on her face anyway.

You lift your head and use the element of surprise to roll Georgia onto her back, trapping her against the mattress with one of your legs framed on each side of her hips.

“You’ve got other suggestions, have you?” you ask her, raising your eyebrows at her as you sweep your damp hair out of your face.

Her hands settle on your hip tentatively, like she knows what she wants but isn’t quite sure yet whether it’s okay.

“I’ve got some ideas,” Georgia admits, fighting off a mischievous smile.

“Yeah?”

You lean down, still hardly able to believe that this is Georgia telling you that she loves you, that she wants you in the same way that you want her, as you press your lips to hers again. You hope that you’ll never get tired of kissing her because each time feels more magical than the last, as you slowly get used to the way that her lips move, to the things that make her breath catch in her throat as she kisses you back, and you know that there’s a whole other side of your oldest friend that’s now open for you to get to know and explore.

It would be so easy to get carried away, especially when Georgia’s hands, already dangerously low on your hips, start to slide lower, but there will be plenty of time for that, you hope. You’ve waited long enough, thirteen long years, for this to happen. You can wait a little longer.

You reluctantly detach your lips from Georgia’s and settle back against her side, one of your legs slung over her hips and her hands coming up to wrap around your back as you lie half on top of her.

“Another time,” you tell her, as you let your eyes flicker shut, knowing that sleep will be easy to come by with Georgia’s arms around you.

“That’d better be a promise,” Georgia murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You don’t say anything, just laugh softly, and snuggle into her until sleep takes you both.

———

You wake in a different position, spooning Georgia from behind, but no less content than you were when you fell asleep. Georgia is still fast asleep, body rising and falling with each deep breath, and you manage to carefully extract your arms from around her so that you can reach for your phone on the bedside table to check the time.

You let out a soft groan when you see the time because you’re supposed to be at training in Manchester in less than two hours, and as perfect as last night was, finally getting an admission from Georgia that she feels the same, you now have to deal with the consequences of staying overnight in London instead of driving back home last night after the match.

You slip out of bed as quietly as you can, intending to go into the bathroom to call Gareth and give him some kind of made up excuse about why you’re not going to be at training. Something that doesn’t involve having to admit that you prioritised a girl over your career, even though Georgia is so much more than just a girl and last night will hopefully be the first of many that you get to experience falling asleep in her embrace, but you’re not so sure that your manager will understand or approve.

But before you can make it as far as the bathroom, you hear a sleepy voice from behind you.

“You’re not sneaking out on me, are you?”

You turn to the most adorable sight, a sleepy Georgia rubbing at her bleary eyes as she pushes herself up onto one elbow, her hair sticking up at an awkward angle on the side she slept on.

“No, of course not,” you promise her. You hold up your phone and explain, “I just need to make a call. I’ve got training today and obviously I’m not going to make it.”

“Come back to bed,” Georgia pleads with you.

“One sec,” you say, calling Gareth and lifting your phone to your ear as you sit down on the edge of the bed. 

When it rings through to voicemail, you’re a little relieved that you don’t actually have to talk to him in person, and you wait for the tone before leaving your message.

“Hi Gareth,” you say, deliberately rasping your voice as you try to sound as sick as you possibly can. “I’m really sorry but I don’t think I’m going to make it into training today. I’m not feeling well and I’ve already been sick once this morning. Sorry again. I’ll catch up with you soon when I’m feeling better. Bye.”

You hang up and toss your phone aside, ignoring the amused look on Georgia’s face as you get back under the covers.

“Pulling a sickie, eh?” she teases you.

“Shut up,” you grumble, though you still cuddle back into Georgia’s side, tangling your legs together beneath the covers once more.

From this close, you’re taken aback by just how pretty she is. Not that it’s the first time you’ve thought that, but seeing her like this, still slightly heavy-eyed from just waking up, looking back at you with adoration mirrored in her dark eyes, and being able to take it all in without having to worry about whether you get caught staring at her, is brand new. And with whatever limited time you have left before you inevitably have to get up and leave the blissful sanctuary of Georgia’s bed, you just want to kiss her, to feel her body against yours so that you have something tangible to remember this by when she has to go back to Munich.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask.

“You don’t have to ask.”

“I do,” you insist. “Because I can’t believe that last night actually happened. I’m still kinda waiting for you to tell me it’s just a prank.”

Georgia presses forward and her lips meet yours. It’s slower than the kisses you exchanged last night before bed, but you sigh happily into the kiss and bring your hand up to cup Georgia’s cheek. She lets out a little noise that you capture with your own mouth as your fingertips brush against a sensitive spot just below her ear and you make a mental note to revisit the spot later, perhaps with your lips and teeth instead, and vow to find every other spot that makes her whimper and melt into putty.

You make out for a while, a lazy exploration of each other’s mouths without any real destination. Having spent at least the last eight months dreaming of getting to spend quiet mornings in bed with Georgia, kissing until it’s hard to tell where you end and she begins, you’d be quite happy to keep doing this for the rest of eternity, but she eventually pulls back.

“I wish I didn’t have to go back to Germany,” Georgia says, echoing your own thoughts.

“But you love it there,” you remind her, trying to be the voice of reason, even though you wish you could both just exist in the cocoon of this hotel room for the rest of time.

“I love it here too.”

“Here being…?”

“With you,” Georgia clarifies, and your face cracks open into a big grin.

“Didn’t know you were so soppy, G,” you tease her. 

“Neither did I. I guess you bring it out in me.”

“Charmer,” you say, snuggling into her shoulder and sliding your hand under the hem of her t-shirt so that your fingertips can brush across the skin of her hip bone.

“We should really get up,” Georgia says, though she makes no move to do so.

“Five more minutes?” you ask, nuzzling your face into Georgia’s neck and pressing your lips to her pulse point.

“Go on then. Five more minutes.”

———

It’s another twenty minutes before you eventually drag yourselves out of bed, which means you have to rush to get ready and any chance you might have had to slip out of the hotel before any of Georgia’s teammates see you is ruined when you hear a knock on the door.

You’ve redressed in last night’s clothes, now mostly dry, and grab the last of your things as Georgia opens the door, revealing three of her teammates standing out in the hallway.

“Breakfast?” they ask her, before three pairs of eyes look past Georgia and fall on you, slipping your feet into your trainers.

“I should go,” you say, checking your coat pocket for your car keys and wandering over to where Georgia stands at the door once you’re satisfied you’ve got everything. “Text me when your flight lands.”

“I’ll text you before then,” Georgia says, her hand coming up to rest on your waist as she tilts her head up to press a sweet kiss to your lips. It’s far more chaste than the ones you shared last night and this morning but it’s still enough to draw some sniggers out of her teammates.

“Bye,” you whisper against her lips as you pull away.

“Love you,” she says.

“Love you too.”

As you leave the room and walk down the hall, you can hear Georgia’s teammates starting to tease her loudly behind you, and you enter the lift fighting off a smile that has everything to do with the development of your relationship in the last ten hours.

———

Luckily you don’t have to wait long to see Georgia again because just a few days after the Champions League match, she returns to England for another Lionesses camp as you prepare for the Finalissima against Brazil.

Naturally, you smuggle Georgia into your room almost as soon as she arrives on camp and spend the night trying really hard to keep your hands to yourself, because you’ve waited so long for Georgia to be yours that you’re determined to wait a little longer so that your first time together isn’t at St George’s Park while your teammates are trying to sleep in the rooms on either side of yours. But you settle for kissing her heatedly well into the night and waking up with her head resting on your chest and one of her arms draped around your waist.

You’re in such a good mood when you go down to breakfast on the first morning of camp, that you completely forget that nobody else knows about the new development in your relationship with Georgia. Specifically, you forget that Keira, who knows pretty much every other up and down of the last few months, doesn’t yet know that Georgia reciprocates your feelings.

You sit at your usual table for breakfast, Keira opposite you and Georgia setting her tray down next to yours.

“I’m just gonna get some juice,” Georgia says. “Do you want some?”

“No thanks,” you reply, taking a sip from your mug of coffee.

You watch as Georgia wanders over to the jugs of juice, your gaze following the swish of her ponytail before dropping to appreciate her legs and the shape of her butt in her training shorts. It’s only when Keira kicks you under the table, hard enough to surely leave a bruise on your shin, that you snap out of your trance.

“What?” 

“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?” Keira hisses across the table.

You pause for a second, glancing between Keira and Georgia, who is on her way back to the table with a glass of orange juice, and then you laugh. You can’t help the way that it spills from your throat because Keira is looking at you like being in love with Georgia is the worst thing in the world, and while it might have been painful a week ago, you don’t know how to begin to explain that in the space of just a few days it’s become the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

“What did I miss?” Georgia asks, as she returns to the table and sits down beside you. “What’s so funny?”

“Keira thinks I’m in love with you,” you explain.

Keira’s eyes widen, and now that you’ve got over the initial surprise of her question, you start to wonder if you can have a bit of fun before actually telling her the truth.

Georgia is clearly thinking the same, because she nudges your thigh with hers and says, “Aw, you love me? That’s lame.”

Keira looks even more panicked - understandable given that she’d probably expect Georgia to be a little more considerate towards your feelings if she didn’t reciprocate.

“Can we talk after breakfast?” Keira asks. “Because I’m worried about you. I thought you’d…” Keira’s eyes flit across to Georgia, then back to you, giving you a deliberate look as she says, “… you know.”

“You thought she’d moved on?” Georgia fills in the gap. She puts down her fork, then reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together and resting them on the table where Keira, and anybody else, can see. “Fat chance of that. She’s obsessed with me.”

Keira looks more confused than ever, and you realise that you probably owe her an explanation.

“G’s my …” You pause, realising that while you’ve both admitted you love each other and there seems to be an understanding that you’re together now, you haven’t actually had a conversation to put an official label on what you are. You turn to Georgia and ask, “Are you my girlfriend?”

“If that’s your way of asking me, it’s not very romantic, is it?” Georgia teases you.

Rolling your eyes, you turn back to Keira and say, “She’s my girlfriend. We’re dating.”

To emphasise your point, you bring your joined hands to your lips and press a kiss to the back of Georgia’s fingers.

Keira’s eyes look like they might pop out of her head at any second.

Leah sits down in the empty seat beside Keira, taking one look at your joined hands, before she says, without a hint of surprise in her voice, “You two have finally got your shit together, then? About bloody time.”

“How are you not more surprised by this?” Keira asks Leah, apparently exasperated by the new development. “I’ve spent months listening to this one,” she jabs an accusatory finger in your direction, “whine on and on about how much she loves Georgia and how Georgia is never going to love her back to the point where I’ve genuinely had sleepless nights worrying about it, only for them to hard launch their apparent relationship by rocking up to breakfast and just holding hands like it’s completely normal!”

Keira is usually so cool and composed, even when under stress, that it’s weird to see her have an outburst like this, but she’s the only one who knows the extent of how much your feelings for Georgia not being reciprocated until now has really affected you over the last few months, and for that she deserves an explanation. 

Georgia leans closer to you and whispers, “Babe, I think we broke Keira.”

You’ll have time to process the way that Georgia’s use of the pet name babe makes your heart do an actual somersault in your chest, eager to revisit the subject later, but you probably owe Keira an explanation before she actually combusts.

“I love her,” you tell Keira and Leah. “And it turns out G loves me too, it just took her a while to figure it out. But we’re serious about giving this a go. It’s brand new, which is scary and exciting, but…” You turn to Georgia now, almost forgetting that the others are here too as you get caught in the adoration in Georgia’s eyes. “But she’s my girlfriend, my best mate, the only person I’ve ever felt like this about. So yeah, I’ve been a bit of a mess over the last few months trying to get my head around what I felt for her. But she’s worth it. You’re worth it, Georgia. And I’m lucky I get to call you mine.”

Your words come from the heart and it feels for just a second like the two of you are caught in your own little bubble of blossoming romance.

That is, until Leah bursts it by sarcastically saying, “Well thanks guys, I really didn’t want to keep my breakfast down this morning.”

It doesn’t matter if Leah ruins the moment. You’ve waited for Georgia for far too long to care. And as the news of your relationship filters through camp until the rest of the team knows, met with some surprise, some cries of “I knew it!”, and plenty of teasing, the only thing that matters is Georgia and the fact that you finally get to call yourself hers.

[the-snail-that-reads]

Please ramble about the Au I’m so curious

Well, since you asked so nicely~

(This isn't proof read. Forgive the incoherence)

I've just been calling this Traveling Companions Au. So basically, Odile meets Siffrin way before the events of the story, not long after the whole Island thing. So, when they're about eleven-ish and she's in her 30s.

And now Odile has this child on her hands who

Can barely communicate. (Going off the assumption that Siffrin was already taught some Vaugardian when he was young since the countries were so close)

Remembers nothing about where their from.

And seemingly just showed up out of the mist.

At this point, Odile has already begun traveling the world. So even if she was in the mood to take a random child in (which, she very much isn't) she isn't in any position to give them a stable home. So, she leaves them at the first orphanage she finds and that's that, isn't it?

Of course not. Because Siffrin just. Keeps. Finding her, having latched onto her like a duckling to the first thing it sees. And eventually she just kind of caves and stops trying to get rid of them. She understands what it's like to feel like you don't belong anywhere, after all.

She's not their mother, never tries to be their mother. She probably just calls them her ward until their old enough to reasonably be called a travel companion. Obviously she cares about him. She just. Never tells him how much she cares about him. In direct words.

And yes, while cute kid Siffrin stuff is all well and good. What I really wanna explore with this AU is how it affects the main story.

Sif grows up with a drier sense of humor. Though puns are still a thing. Odile will never be free from the puns.

Siffrin probably? Learns about her whole Familytale quest, but never pries into the context until the Friendship quests arc.

Self-esteem issues are still a thing, just in a different flavor.

He's definitely a lot more comfortable with making fun of Odile than he is in canon. Though it goes both ways. They've got over a decades worth of dirt on each other.

And if Odile was perceptive before, imagine how much easier to read Siffrin is going to be now? She's known them for like 2/3s of their life she's definitely going to notice somethings going on in most of their loops.

Mirabelle and Isabeau get two party members for the price of one in this AU! And with the way Odile and Siffrin behave around each other they assume they've been traveling together for a while.

One day, Mirabelle actually thinks to ask how long they've known each other. And when Odile casually replies, "oh... fourteen years? Fifteen?" She and Isabeau are baffled because ??? Siffrin's in his mid-20s????

At one point, Mirabelle or Isabeau mentions that Odile must be like a mother to Siffrin, and the absolutely disconcerted look Siffrin gives them in response is enough to make them never bring it up ever again.

So yeahhhhhh those are my rambles. Maybe I'll write a fic about this. Maybe I'll just release this into the wild and let people do what they want with it. Who knows?

[livwritesstuff]

tw: references to blood

When Steve and Eddie’s children are old enough to start elementary school and they begin to meet their classmates’ parents, Steve finds himself quickly approaching a new revelation:

Men…kind of suck.

Steve knows that’s a blanket statement, and a bold one at that given how it’s directed towards a camp both he and his husband are a part of, but some of the stories the moms of his daughters’ classmates tell in the school pick-up line are…something else.

One of them once said she didn't trust her husband to be alone with their children for more than an hour. One mom referred to her husband’s time with the kids as babysitting. Another said she couldn’t get her own husband to take on basic household chores.

Truthfully, it takes everything in Steve to not point out how messed up it all is. The foundation of his and Eddie’s entire life together – their marriage, their family, everything – is the partnership they’ve built over the years. At no point during their seventeen years together and their near-decade navigating parenthood has Steve ever felt like he and Ed were anything other than equals in how they tackled all the facets of the small corner of the world they were responsible for.

However.

There is still the (very infrequent) occasion in which Steve catches himself wondering if someone might have swapped out his husband for a fourth kid.

For example:

It’s a Saturday afternoon and it’s raining, so the whole family is stuck inside. In his desperate search for something fun to do, Eddie is trying to invent a new form of bowling, and hacking off the tops off of milk cartons with an old box cutter in his endeavor.

Steve had warned him that this was a bad idea.

“The blade on that thing is ancient, my love,” he’d said, but Eddie had just waved him off, and, of course, less than two minutes after Steve walked away to tackle the pile of dishes in the sink, he hears a pained hiss and the clatter of something hard and metal hitting the floor. Then comes the shrieks of three panicked little girls.

“Papa!” Robbie yells, “Daddy cut himself and there’s blood everywhere!”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters, taking his time dropping the plastic Disney princess cup he’d been holding back into the sink, wiping his hands dry, and heading back into the family room. Eddie is still sitting on the couch, the box cutter at his feet, surrounded by their daughters as he holds his wrist in his other hand so Steve can see a gash on his finger bleeding more than he would have guessed, “Alright everybody outta the way.”

The first thing Steve does is swipe the box cutter off the ground and stuff it in his pocket. There’s droplets of blood on the floor, he notices, and Robbie helpfully says, “Papa, the blood squirted!”

He glances at Moe, the most squeamish out of their three daughters by a mile, to see that she’s white as a sheet and getting greener by the second.

“Enough, Robbie. Moe – walk away, please.”

He tugs Eddie off the couch and pulls him towards the bathroom.

“Girls, don’t touch the blood on the floor, okay?”

“How come?” Robbie asks.

“Because it can have germs in it…and we’ve got white carpets.”

Once they're in the bathroom, Eddie sits on the counter and holds out his hand so Steve can wrap a wad of gauze around the cut and gently press some weight onto it.

“You okay?” he asks him.

“All good. You gonna say I told you so?”

“Nah. Feel like this is sufficient.”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

There’s the scuffling sound in the hallway of the girls convening outside the bathroom door. Steve can vaguely hear Robbie saying, “...and if the blood doesn’t stop, he’ll pass out and then the ambulance will come and he’ll go to the E.R. and –”

Steve opens the door a crack.

“Amelia Robin,” he warns, “Beat it. Nobody’s going to the E.R…unless any of you want an extra flu shot. I can make that happen.”

The girls all shriek again and run in the opposite direction.

Eddie is snickering as Steve shuts the bathroom door again and rifles through a cluttered drawer.

“Pick your poison,” he says, holding up three boxes of branded Band-Aids (Mickey Mouse, Star Wars, and Pokemon).

“Give me the mouse,” Eddie replies, sounding resigned.

Steve obliges, wrapping a Mickey Mouse band-aid around his finger. He plants a soft kiss on the spot where the cut is (because it can’t hurt), and then, because it’s the first time they’ve been alone together all day, he plants another on his lips.

"All better," he says when he pulls away.

“What would I ever do without you?” Eddie grins.

“You’d’ve died in the Upside Down twenty five years ago," Steve replies drily.

[cerastes]

Hey. It's been a while. I think it's right to update you on stuff so tl;dr I'm probably not going to be around for some time, and if I am, it'll be in a diminished capacity, but if you're interested, do check under the cut. I'll also immediately state that I am not in any dangerous situation, it's other stuff, but I'll immediately dispel that before the cut just in case you just wanted to know that in particular.

Let's talk for a bit.

Long story short, the economy here is in shambles. The idea was for me to already have a new job, but that's not gone according to plan. I've been eating into my savings for a while now, and the people that told me that I had a job lined up for me September or at the latest October, meaning, this month, have been ghosting me. It seems to not be an option anymore, and no explanation was ever given to me. A shame, because it came from a place of relative trust.

This has eaten away at my nerves somewhat, and though it is the month of my birthday, I can't help but notice that, between the economy being this bad here, how hard it's been to land another job, and the fact that I'm eating into my savings, well, it's got me more than a bit worried. I'm not in any immediate danger of losing the roof over my head, or starving, or anything like that, but after a few months of "well, my savings take yet another hit this month with no end in sight", it's been rather rough, you'll understand, and it's compounded a bit. For just a second, and not as a primary, secondary, or even tertiary plan, more like a twenty-eighth measure if anything, I did entertain the dark idea of maybe asking for a bit of help here, and the moment that thought came up, I realized, "Ok, this is truly and well affecting me, I never want to do that", because, again, it's not like I'm in any immediate danger of homelessness or anything that grave, but it's been weighting on me enough that, even as a distant glint in the horizon of an idea, I did consider it. I don't want to sound like I'm blowing my own horn here, but for over a decade that I've had this blog, and the community/following/whatever you want to call it that has grown around it, I've never once asked for something like monetary help, because I think that can be a slippery slope. I've seen people far bigger than me, and some smaller, too, get addicted to asking for donations or help, or simply start taking it for granted when they ask for such a thing. My friends will tell you I writhe in agony when I receive a gift such as a game or something over the mail. My logic is that I don't need it, not in a proud way, but rather, in a "I wish you would spend this money on yourself instead, or on someone that truly needed it". With this in mind, I realized that, for me to even slightly consider that as an option, for the first time in my life, it meant that it was biting away at me far, far more severely than I thought. It's translated to other parts of my life as of late; I've not been depressed or anything, but I've felt this itch, this remarkably implacable feeling of "my man, you don't deserve to be taking it easy right now, something has to change, progress needs to be made".

I went out to wander for a few days, then arrived at my cousin's farm. He and his wife live a humble, hard working life, he invited me to stay for a while, I accepted, it was real nice, we hanged out, went exploring creeks and mountainsides while knocking back a few beers, the whole shebang for two guys that grew up in the middle of nowhere. Anyhow, it's true that the whole exposition that was the previous paragraph is something at play, but I also just... Haven't really wanted to be online at all. I don't want to check anything, read anything, and I feel a deep sense of alienation that I've not really felt in a long time. I suppose this is one of those good ol' Bro Is Going Through It, if we're to summarize it in a few words. It's easy for me to dispel negative thoughts and bounce back normally, because I've done a great deal of personal building and homework on knowing myself inside out, but not even this black belt in Drimobrain has helped this time around, and well, it bothers me, obviously, bwahaha. It's the first time in a few years that I really sincerely do not understand what's up with me, and while it's not really something I would consider me being rock bottom or anywhere near those depths, I do think I'm still below surface level, which is something I don't admit to easily, but have no choice to. I would love to be able to give this malaise shape and firmness through written or spoken word, but right now, it's a work in progress.

What bothers me the most is the sense of alienation I spoke of before: It makes no sense for me to feel this way, I'm treated with love and kindness every day, no one's silencing me in any way, I don't deal with barbs or hostility. So why is it that that's how I feel? Or perhaps it's something that feels similar, but I've no clue what it is, so I'm compounding it with alienation?

Regardless, it's all compounded into me just... Not wanting to be online. In the words of a friend of mine, "Dreamer has a fetish for self-development and growth", and, well, yeah, she's got that right despite the wording, I like to feel as if I'm improving every day and becoming better every day, even if slightly, and right now I feel like I'm just degenerating. Is it because my mood has been sour overall? Maybe. It might as well just be the fact that I Just Don't Want To Be Online For A While, and capricious clown that I am, if I want to do something, I do it, and if I don't want to do something, I don't do it. I'm tied to nothing and no one except my desire and drive to do or not do things. I can't change that, nor do I want to change that. And in this case, my heart's said to me, "fuck going online, go out, do things, try to get a job".

I also almost got recruited into something fucking vile that I thankfully noticed in time to avoid, but that's a story for another time.

There you have it. Am I leaving the internet/blue website forever? No, of course not, I like it here. Are things hard right now? They are, to be honest. Are they the worst it could be? Not at all. Do I have complete clarity of what's up with this fog inside of my head? No, and that bother me quite a bit. Are things going to be alright? Yeah, I think they will be.

I do regret it's in October of all months that this is going on, because it's where my shitposting power is at its apex due to my birthday, but hey, things happen, not necessarily for a reason, but they can be handled in such a way that it gives them meaning. I'm a fervent believer in that. I'm sorry this isn't the update you may have been hoping for, full of Lucina cosplayer blowjobs and other such hijinks, but hey, they can't all be Rainbow Road, haha.

So in case we don't see each other for a while, I hope you're all doing fine and dandy. I'm alive, I'm trying to be well, and most importantly, most fundamentally, most quintessentially,

I stay silly.

[danikamariewrites]

more dark batboys x dark reader pls i’d literally give you my first born for more, maybe they sit together and do a debrief of all mysteries in velaris. like the boys have been trying to solve this one criminal that kidnaps primarily men sith bad reputation and reader joyfully says oh that’s me!! :)) and their jaw drop nv they’ve been investigating for over 20 years and now they’re in awe and want to know exactly how her brilliant mind did it🧎‍♀️

Cold Cases

Poly!batboys x reader

A/n: I think this has been one of my favorite ‘series’ to write for besides the ddlg stuff

Warnings: mentions of injuries, murder, torture, and mentions of abuse

Azriel had laid out all his unsolved cases from the past decade. All missing males or murdered. He stood, his hands behind his back, as he waited for you, Cassian, and Rhysand to come in.

Rhys pushes the door open giving Azriel a questioning look. He just nods at the table and Rhys just lets out an ‘Ahh’ before taking his seat. You have your arm entwined with Cassian’s as he leads you to your seat.

You plop down kissing Cassian’s hand in thanks and turn your attention to Azriel. “What’s all this Az?” You gesture at the files across the table. Azriel sits, pulling the closest one to him flipping it open. “These are all unsolved cases. All males either missing or murdered, so I wanted to go through them with you to see if you knew anything.”

“Ooohhhh a stroll down memory lane. Ok read ‘em.” You say excitedly. A deranged twinkle in your eye as Azriel reads out some of your greatest crimes. The first three cases were duds. You were almost offended he thought you did it.

Once Azriel read out the fourth case that devilish smirk that told them you knew something they didn’t spread across your lips. You let Azriel finish before you said anything. “Yeah that was me. He’s dead, I buried him in the Dark Forest. The asshole was beating his wife, so I stopped it.”

Cassian gave your shoulder a supportive squeeze as Azriel moved the file to his ‘solved’ pile. The next few were also you. Majority dead, all in different and very creative ways, as Rhys put it. This went on for two hours and over seventy percent of Azriel’s unsolved cases were you.

The last case was an interesting one. The male was missing and still alive. You wouldn’t say what he did, it was far too vile to repeat. The female that was his victim didn’t live in the long run. “I-I wanted him to live with the pain he caused her.” You seemed to be struggling to get your words out.

The boys knew this was clearly personal. But they wouldn’t push. You’d tell them the story on your own time. “I psychologically tortured him for years. His friends and family thought he’d gone crazy, magic really helped there. Once I got my hands on him I kept him tied up for days. I broke his mind to the point where he didn’t even know who he was.” You let out a shaky breath, laying your sweaty palms on the cool wood table.

“A few days after that I dropped him in a random Winter Court village. Gave him a whole new identity and a face fucked up beyond recognition. He’s confused, alone, and scared. And he will be for the rest of his life.” Your eyes had gone distant, like you were in that Winter village watching the male. A grave look had taken over your usual chipper demeanor.

Shaking your head a little, you snap back into yourself. That smirk coming back along with the glint in your eyes. “That all of them Azzy?” “Yeah,” he nods. “I’m very impressed darling. And not a single person suspected you.”

You shrugged, standing from your seat. “What can I say? It’s a talent.” As you left the room the boys shared a look that said they were impressed yet terrified of where you draw the line.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for blocking my business partner and our mutual friends?

First of all, I want to establish that I'm not an idiot. I don't think I'm the smartest person in the world, I didn't do very well in school, and I'm generally a bit forgetful. I've been struggling with undiagnosed mental illness and neurodivergency for my entire life. My family growing up was very anti therapy and I've only recently brought anything up to a doctor. However, I like to think I manage myself pretty well. I have my own systems for doing things, and they may be unconventional, but it works. I've come to terms with the fact that no matter what I do, I'm going to have to work a lot harder than the average person and get a lot less credit. That's just how it is. I have two jobs, one of which is at a restaurant, and the other is a business that I started with my friend. It's still fairly small and local, but I'm really proud of how far it's come.

Me and my business partner, we'll call her Shelly, have a group of friends that we hang out with from time to time. I honestly don't like them very much, but Shelly, who has been my best friend for over a decade really enjoys hanging out with them, so though I've expressed to her that I want to start seeing them less, I've stayed friends with them, both to make Shelly happy and to avoid any drama that might be caused.

Among this group of friends is someone we'll call Dianne. Dianne will insult and berate me consistently, and then insist it was a joke. Nobody has ever laughed, and I have told Dianne that I don't find any of it funny. The other members of the friend group (aside from Shelly) said that this is just how she expresses that she likes somebody, and tried to make it seem like playful banter, but the insults are incredibly one-sided (I've never said an ill word about her to any of them, and especially not to her. I'm not rude.) and she never insults anyone but me and sometimes Shelly.

Recently ( a couple months or so ago) she started taking digs at my intelligence, as I have been a few minutes late to a couple of our hangouts, and I have trouble with my left and right. I said explicitly that I don't like it when people treat me like an idiot. I tried to be polite, but I won't stand for that. Also, being late and directions are very common things for people to struggle with, so I don't understand why that insinuates that I'm at all unintelligent. She also may have gotten this idea because I don't tend to laugh at her jokes, which are mostly things like "that's what she said" and other cheap and immature sex jokes. She usually tries to brush off the fact that I don't laugh by saying I must be dumb because I don't get her jokes. I do, they're just not very clever and I clearly have a different sense of humor than her.

I just kept trying to avoid any sort of conflict, because the rest of the group makes Shelly really happy. But then it started to get worse. The whole group seemed to be influenced by these jokes, and stopped expecting me to be able to do anything. I wasn't even the designated driver anymore, even though I'm usually the obvious choice because I don't drink. Dianne told me I'd probably crash because she didn't think I could read street signs. I've driven her home multiple times (during none of which she's been sober enough to remember my driving ability) and I've never driven at all irresponsibly while any of them were in the car. The whole group, aside from Shelly, began making jokes about how I was the resident airhead. For my birthday, Dianne got me a toddler sippy cup, and a card that said "Congrats, you're 2!". Get it. Because I'm so stupid I'm basically a child. Ha ha. So funny I forgot to laugh.

The last straw for me was when Shelly sent me a business email that was like "Are you going to be able to get the books done in time?" and basically told me to make sure I wasn't lazy when it came to keeping track of the sales, even though I've never been late with that kind of stuff. I really care about our business, and I keep track of all of the financials and do our taxes. I don't have a degree or anything, I could never afford college, so I emailed Shelly back very passive-agressively about how if she doesn't think I can do it in time, she can hire a real accountant.

We met with the friendgroup the next day and I was incredibly pissed. Dianne made another dig at me, something about our business probably going under because I'm too incompetent to do anything. I snapped. In the midst of yelling at her, I said "I am not stupid. You don't get to treat me like I am." and she said "But aren't you, though?" and I stormed out. I blocked everyone, except for Shelly.

I texted Shelly and said that she could be friends with whoever she wants, but that I'm never speaking to any of them ever again. Shelly said that I was being overdramatic, and that they're all being awkward to her now because they know that we're such good friends. I apologized for putting her in a position where she felt like she was in the middle, but told her that I was not about to take any more of that treatment. I told her I'm disappointed that after all this time, she let other people dictate the way that she sees me. When her new friends call me stupid, I can let it slide off of my back, but when my best friend of over a decade starts treating me like I'm incompetent and I can't get anything done, that really hurts. She told me that I need to learn to take a joke. I blocked her too after that. We've continued having meetings and being mostly civil, but we haven't spoken outside of that, and all the friendship is gone.

I'm mostly concerned about how this situation is going to affect our business, because I have worked so hard and I'd hate to see it fail because of petty drama and insults. I'm now feeling like I made a huge mistake by blowing up. Should I have just kept quiet to protect my job and friendship?

What are these acronyms?

[lovelylogans]

the parent trap

the masterpost

“So,” Remus says slowly. “If your Dad is my Dad…”

“...and your Pa is my Papa…”

Remus stares at the seam of the wedding photo, made whole again after more than a decade. His Pa, Patton, familiar with his cowboy-handsome, weather-beaten face and his dimpled grin and his big, calloused hand resting over his new husband’s, even if Remus has never seen him look this smitten ever. 

“And we’re both born on October 11… then, Roman. You and I are… like… brothers.”

And his Dad—Janus—smiling coyly, handsome in the way of magazine models, so completely a stranger to Remus with just this scrap of a photograph to serve as any way to know him, really know him. The way Roman knows him. The way Remus has been dying to know him all his life.

“Remus,” Roman breathes out, disbelieving. “We aren’t just brothers. We’re twins.”

Remus wonders, in a daze, if seeing the opposite life he could have had is as strange for Roman as it is for him… if they’d just been switched at birth, it’s the life Remus could have had, knowing his Dad instead of his Pa, but then…

But then it clicks.

“Roman,” he says, turning to grin at his brother—his brother! “I have a completely perfect, totally awesome idea!”

or: it's a parent trap AU for @tss-storytime with fanart by @tastic-in-its-finest!

warnings: pranks and practical jokes, smoking, drinking, brief mentions of underage drinking (in the context of a child trying a sip of wine), sibling rivalry and bonding, please let me know if i've missed any!

pairings: janus/patton, logan/virgil, brief patton/male oc

word count: 80k

notes: a few notes before we begin: first, thanks so much to morgan for their fanart for this fic!!! it's so cute, please like and reblog and do all that fun stuff!!! second, thanks to the folks over at the big bang for organizing this whole event—i know firsthand how complicated that can get, and you are so appreciated!!! this is technically a '90s au, but a '90s au in terms of the fashion and lack of social media/cell phones, not any of the homophobia. i hope you all enjoy!!!!

chapter one: prologue Across the world from each other, two very different families help two very similar boys pack their bags.

chapter two: welcome to camp walden! Welcome to what we like to think of as the most beautiful spot on God's green earth—Camp Walden.

chapter three: en garde The boys come to blows. (With practice épées, but in their minds, it’s equally as serious.)

chapter four: riposte The boys come to blows. (With words and stitching.)

chapter five: black card The boys come to blows. (With a temporary reversal of gravity, oodles of chocolate sauce, and finally, some semblance of adult interference.)

chapter six: isolation station The boys spend a great deal of their time considering coming to blows. Until suddenly, they don’t want to fight at all anymore.

chapter seven: operation augustus The realization of having an identical twin does quite a bit to spur some out-of-the-box levels of creativity.

chapter eight: let's get down to business! The boys begin to plot. Camp Walden trembles in fear.

chapter nine: to defeat… the family civil divisions of napa and london respectively! The boys plot. The world all over ought to be trembling in fear.

chapter ten: domine dirige nos Remus spends a great deal of time weighing the most British way to say hello. He’s going to have to repress throwing in a what’s all this then, guv’nor? the entire time.

chapter eleven: eureka! Roman spends a great deal of time weighing the most American way to say hello. He thinks he probably shouldn’t come right out of the gate with howdy, y’all!

chapter twelve: a wench in the works This absolutely was not in their multitude of blueprints!

chapter thirteen: riding is magic and friendship is power and love is everything to everyone Roman gets to meet his pony. He should, by all rights, be much more excited about it, but someone had to go and ruin it for him.

chapter fourteen: in which virgil attempts to hold a poker face (and fails miserably) Virgil curses being so observant.

chapter fifteen: all of my change spent on you Remus has a particularly fun run-in. Well. Fun for him.

chapter sixteen: so your sons have swapped places and are in foreign countries This particular subject was not covered in the parenting books.

chapter seventeen: hopped off the plane at lax with a dream of civil reconciliation with my ex-husband Remus plots. Grandfather aids and abets. Janus panics. Logan suffers them all.

chapter eighteen: small world and getting smaller Janus is officially the father of the two most troublesome twins in the galaxy.

chapter nineteen: you got me tripping, stumbling! sinking, fumbling! Patton makes a splash.

chapter twenty: the queen elizabeth the second the second The twins attempt to revive the past. The parents wish to change it.

chapter twenty-one: i said a boom chicka boom! Logan’s swept off his feet. As is Maddox, in an entirely different way.

chapter twenty-two: i said a boom GO TO YOUR ROOM The twins’ plots bear oh-so-satisfying fruit.

chapter twenty-three: where dreams have no end A hello, a goodbye.

chapter twenty-four: the concorde(ance) A goodbye, a hello.

chapter twenty-five: epilogue Two very similar boys help their two very different families assimilate into one.

[moongothic]

So I'm confused about something. There was a cover story about Ms Goldenweek and other Baroque works agents breaking Crocodile out of prison but he just. Told them no? And stayed there with Mr 1 and Mr 2? I don't get why he wanted to go to Impel Down just to break out when he had the chance

I can't tell you 100% why Crocodile chose to stay in prison and go to Impel Down, but my best guess really is that he was just...

Taking the L with grace

More specifically. Crocodile had lost everything. I think deep inside he might've been literally too depressed to want to go free again.

Like he does literally say that. He gave up.

He had been building his reputation as "the Hero of Alabasta" for at least 10 years at this point. He had built not just a criminal organization that he had been running for four years, but also he had been running legal business stuff (like his casino) for probably longer than that. A decade's worth of work and effort to take over a country, and most importantly, get away with it. The reason he had orchestrated that whole rebellion was so that the rebels and the royal family could "take each other out", leaving the country wide open for a World Government Official such as himself to take up. The reason Baroque Works was doing this all in secret was so that the WG never found out, otherwise they wouldn't have let him have Alabasta.

But indeed, his plans were foiled by a kid in flipflops in less than 24 hours, just at the final moment before Crocodile would win. He lost everything. And the World Government found out about what he had been planning.

So even if he escaped from that prison with his former agents, what was he going to do?

He wouldn't be able to take over Alabasta anymore because he did not have manpower (as he had lost all his goons), and having lost his financial empire he wouldn't be able to build a new army any time soon. And even if he did, now that they knew what he had done the people of Alabasta would not accept him as their new king, even if he personally assasinated Cobra and the entire family. Not to mention, the WG finding out about his plans meant that they had every fucking reason to try and stop Crocodile if he did as much as set foot on that island again. By which I mean, they could launch a Buster Call on his ass. Send all the fucking Admirals after him. And so, even if Crocodile still believed Pluton was somewhere in Alabasta and that he just had to comb through the entire desert to find it... Between the Alabastan people and the WG in the way, finding Pluton would not be easy. Especially when Robin wouldn't even be there to just point him directly to it. It could take years, if not decades, while fighting off the WG by himself. And that's while assuming Pluton was somewhere in Alabasta. Like WE the readers now know Pluton is in Wano, but since Robin didn't tell him that. All Robin said was that the Poneglyph "didn't mention the weapon", and Cobra's reaction to the name merely proved the weapon's existence in Crocodile's mind. But surely, because Crocodile is a smart young man, he'd understand there was a risk that Pluton could exist, but just not be in Alabasta, right? Like that would be a possibility too, right?

I think this is why Crocodile has given up on Alabasta. He had one opportunity at seizing the country, and he failed. And without Robin, he could spend the rest of his life combing through a haystack for a needle when there's no needle, and he'd have no idea. I think is why he explicitly says in Impel Down he no longer has "interest in that country". He won't be able to pull off another stunt like this, ever.

And that leads us back to "why not escape earlier and avoid going to Impel Down to begin with". Thanks to his status as a Shichibukai, Crocodile hasn't been on the run from the WG for like two decades. And the past 10 or so years he has seemingly lived a life of luxury in his funny little casino. But now, having lost everything, he'd be back on the run. And because he's a world famous former "hero of the people", there would be nowhere he'd be able to go where people would not recognize him and send the marines after him. So he'd be on the run, for the rest of his life or until he'd get capture again. And mind you, the guy does not trust anyone, so he'd be on the run alone. Without any purpose or goal.

And you might be thinking, "Daz and the rest of BW was still there!", yeah, arguably true. But at this point Crocodile had no reason to trust any of them. Like personally, I think the reason Crocodile ended up taking a liking to Daz was BECAUSE he chose to follow him to Impel Down when he really did not have to. Like Daz showed an unusual level of loyalty to Crocodile, and I think Crocodile recognized that. That's why Daz is still with Croc, post-timeskip. But Miss Goldenweek and co? Crocodile had no reason to believe they wouldn't betray him if given a chance and a reason. And if the WG would come chasing his ass, they'd have plenty of reason to try and betray Croc (handing Crocodile over to spare their own lives). Not to mention, when they come release their former boss from jail, what did Miss Goldenweek say?

"Let's do Baroque Works again"

As I've already explained in detail, I think we might know why Crocodile wasn't interested in being Baroque Works' "boss" again.

So. Yeah. If in Crocodile's mind he'd be on the run from the Government for the first time in two decades all alone, in a situation where rebuilding what he had before would be bloody hard if not downright impossible, and he wouldn't be able to obtain what he had spent the last decade working for regardless...

Taking the L and just going to prison might've been the easier option

[deansmom]

Everytime I point out that Dean Winchester is autistic, people get mad or look at me like I’ve spontaneously grown a second head, as if this man’s existence isn’t just checking off boxes for the diagnostic criteria

Special interests: westerns, cars, mechanical engineering stuff in general, 1960’s & 70’s music - specifically classic rock, monsters. You’re gonna look me in the eyes and tell me that it’s totally normal for someone who was born in 1979 to have borderline encyclopedic knowledge of two decades of music????? Hundreds of years of monster lore??? — for fuck’s sake, he had a train thing when he was little!!!! Those are special interests!!!!

Restricted diet: it’s mostly for Jokes but dean genuinely doesn’t eat much beyond burgers, diner food and pie.

Dean didn’t speak for months after Mary died and there’s 15 years of canon evidence where he loses his voice during moments of Big Emotions!!! He’s going nonverbal!!!!!!!

Trouble with social cues: literally look at every single instance of Dean trying to interact with strangers, ESPECIALLY in the early seasons. He’s not playing dumb, he just doesn’t get it. Also, watch any scene of this man TRYING to flirt and tell me that he’s any good at it. You know why? That bitch is mimicking the fucking movies and tv shows he grew up watching.

Sensory processing disorder: DO YOU THINK HE WEARS 87 LAYERS FOR FUN???? FOR FASHION????? WHAT DID YOU THINK ALL THE FLANNELS WERE ABOUT. THEY’RE SOFT. Also think about how much he liked the nightgown and the robe. ALSO, ALSO: school!!! It’s loud, it’s smelly, it’s dirty (his germ thing), the lights are too bright, there’s too much sensory input happening at one time. Between being so overwhelmed in school that he couldn’t focus and John pulling him left & right for cases and Sam, no wonder dean dropped out :(

14.04. The comic book episode is an ENTIRE episode about dean and his special interests!!!!!! And his social anxiety, hiding out in his room at the beginning of the episode because of all the strangers in his home 😤

Emotional regulation problems: those angry outbursts?? Destroying the Impala??? LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME THATS NOT A MELTDOWN

His whole personality is a mask! He based his whole life and personality around the men he grew up around! John, Bobby, the other hunters - we all know that dean isn’t this rugged manly man he puts on. Sure people can have layers, but my man literally wore his dad’s actual jacket for fucking years

Black & white thinking: this doesn’t need anything else tbh

Strong sense of Justice: “how many people do you have to save?” “All of ‘em. Whole wide world of sports.”

Literal thinking: half the show is about how they both have to learn to look at monsters and not immediately go “monsters bad.” Also literal thinking is hard to explain, but I promise he does this.

Hyperlexic: “what? I read?”

“Too blunt”: all those times you thought “that was kinda harsh Dean” or “wtf that was so mean” - he doesn’t like lying to people when he doesn’t have to!

Hyper empathy: “The baby in the well? My bad.” “I do my best to be brave.” Sacrificing himself for people over and over again. The djinn episode and the speech he makes in front of John’s grave. His whole life he’s been told he cares too much!!!!

As a fellow AuDHD bitch, the most AuDHD thing Dean has ever said was “we know a little about a lot of things. Just enough to make us dangerous.” Also: “I got no idea. But what I do have is a GED and a give ‘em hell attitude, and I’ll figure it out.”

Like I could dive into the nuances of all of these and explain them in great detail and find textual evidence for basically everything, but it’s too early in the morning for that much work when I know that I’m right. Yeah he has adhd, obviously, but I will eat my left hand if that man isn’t autistic.

[deepouterspacecandy]

If you thought I was a mush-heart before, hold my soggy Kleenex. I'm calling this one "A Mother's Heirloom" and while I definitely teared up while writing it, I hope this glimpse into what Abby's life could've been makes you smile. Hot damn, does she ever love you.

Now I can get serious about answering the many amazing messages and asks you guys have sent me. You incredible humans make me smile so big. Thank you so much for the love.

Your heart has belonged to Abby Anderson ever since that momentous night at eleven years old when the two of you boldly stole a Humvee from the motor pool. With Abby in control of the pedals and you at the wheel, the two of you found yourselves in deep trouble with her dad.

After the dust settled, and once you had toiled away, sweating off every last ounce of your debt, he pledged to never let either of you live it down.

True to his word, he has remained steadfast for over a decade.  

It is clear as day where Abby gets her discipline from.

“Well, if it isn’t the Steering Savant and the Pedal Prodigy, blessing me with their presence!” Jerry exclaims.

“Seriously, Dad, that happened so long ago,” Abby groans. “Will you ever quit?”

“Nope,” he beams, his wild grey hair sticking out in all directions. “You girls are lucky I’m around, otherwise you’d be out on your butts.”

“You say that every time,” Abby says, chuckling. “The Fireflies don’t boot people out for stuff like that.”

“Abs, engaging in grand theft auto is a significant criminal offense,” he says, combing back the greasy strands of his disheveled hair with his hands. “I totally had to play the doctor card to keep a roof over your heads.”

“Boy, you’re really nailing the whole mad scientist thing!” you interrupt.  

As Abby collapses onto the worn leather couch in his office, she helps you double down on her father.

“You totally look like you stepped out of a movie,” Abby giggles.

His fingers continually get snagged in the frizzy tangles, so he opts to leave it alone. But not before affectionately teasing his daughter for her unabashed nerdiness.

“What do you know about movies, huh?” Jerry asks. “You’ve been a bookworm since you were three.”

“Whoa, I’m a huge movie buff,” Abby says. As she defends herself, her hands become animated, punctuating her words with sharp gestures. “Caught one last night for your information, and I didn’t even nod off!”

“She’s so full of it,” you say. In response to her playful and piercing glare, you sarcastically raise your hands in surrender. “Seriously, she asked me what just happened like a million times.”

Jerry’s fond smile between you and Abby is so heartwarming that it feels like a tender hug for your soul.

From the moment you arrived at the gates, alone and shivering, with dirt caking your body and grime under your nails, he has consistently shown you kindness.

When you started having nightmares and had some trouble sleeping, it was he who proposed that you share a room with Abby to ease your fears, making the two of you inseparable.

A pair of bookends holding each other up.

When you turned thirteen and started feeling anxious about your sexuality, he was there pouring tea and lending a supportive ear, patiently guiding you through the process of self-acceptance and discovering the importance of embracing your identity.

Despite his extensive medical knowledge, he never treated you like a patient during the many calamities he helped you navigate over the years; to him, you were always family.

And he never missed a beat when something was going on with his family.

Although he’d been thoroughly exploring the realms of science, leaving no stone unturned in his pursuit of a cure for Cordyceps for as long as you can remember, nothing got by him. Despite the visible stress reflected in the deep lines on his forehead, he never complained or took either of you for granted.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asks, raising a tired eyebrow. “You are way past the point of needing my permission to stay up late.”

From the wastebasket, Abby playfully tosses a crumpled piece of paper at his head, aiming with impressive precision. Her words hang trembling in the air, laden with weight.

“There’s something you need to know,” Abby says.

With a sigh of relief, Jerry shuts the massive medical textbook and pushes it aside.

“You both good?” he asks, his natural inclination to assess for any harm emerging. “What’s up?”

“Well, it’s just that we wanted to tell you ourselves instead of you finding out through the grapevine,” you explain.

“The gossip can get a bit crazy,” Abby says with a nod. “And we’ve put a ton of thought into this, just so you know.”

Before you can spiral further into your worries, Jerry signals for everyone to stop by holding up a gracious hand.

“Are you finally spilling the beans about what’s going on between the two of you?” he asks.

Beginning at her freckled forehead and travelling down to her neck, Abby’s face becomes a vivid shade of red under her father’s knowing gaze. With a smirk on his face, Jerry long-sufferingly waits for her brain to catch up, amusement dancing across his weathered features.

There is a quiver in her voice as she speaks, filled with a powerful undercurrent of conviction.

“We’ve been more than friends for a while now,” Abby confesses. The moment her glossy blue eyes connect with yours across the room, time comes to a standstill. “I really love her dad—I’m in love with her.”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” he says.

After you both exit his office, emotions running high from diving into nostalgia over the many joyful years you’ve spent together, he reaches into his desk drawer and retrieves a small wooden box.

Nestled within is a handwritten note, delicately wrapped around the wedding ring that Jerry had custom designed and placed on the finger of Abby’s late mother.

She wore it until the day she quietly slipped into her soft white wings and well before he was ready to say goodbye.

For our little girl when she meets the one who makes her as happy as you made me.

With a careful hand, he holds the ring closer to the tarnished lamp on his desk, marvelling at how the diamond still catches the light.

“Won’t be long, now, Darling,” Jerry murmurs.

A soothing presence envelops him, reminiscent of a gentle, familiar kiss on his shoulder.  

[saruman-the-silly]

Life ain't fun without a little flame

tags: sodo x gn!reader, some mild swearing! friends to lovers yay, two idiots in love more like, fluffy

You had been hired as a stage manager for Ghost, which meant you were checking that everything was going smoothly before the gigs. When you first started, the ghouls had been a bit hesitant about you. After all, you were human and usually most humans didn't take the whole "Satanic church with literal ghouls from hell" lightly.

All the hesitation disappeared soon though, when after sound check, you had approached Sodo and begun making small talk.

"Hi! I'm the new stage manager here and just wanted to say, E-string is a bit flat, thought you'd wanna know." He scoffed, and grabbed his tuner. Turns out, you were right. Sodo shook his head, and looked at you. "What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing really, just wanted to chat and maybe get to know you guys a bit. It's gonna be a long tour so, yeah!"

Sodo, being Sodo, thought you were being weird but quickly realized you were actually pretty fun company. He enjoyed your odd sense of humour, because he also had a weird sense of humour.

Sodo was definitely not the one to chat about with stage crew, and Swiss was gaping at the interaction with his mouth open, before Rain pulled him away.

"Did you see that?? He fucking SMILED AND LAUGHED WITH THEM?" Swiss grinned at Rain. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS-"

"SHH, yeah I know, Sodo hasn't really laughed in like a decade but shut it now or he'll hear you and bite your arm off!" Rain slapped Swiss' shoulder.

Swiss was, of course, right as always and everyone else except you and Sodo noticed it over time. Sodo wasn't really much of a talker, but with you beside him? You had conversations that lasted many hours, only stopping at midnight when one of you fell asleep. One time, you had been talking till very late at night, and you had fallen asleep against Sodo's shoulder.

When he noticed, he smiled and gently carried you to your room. Of course, Swiss saw you and now would not stop pestering Sodo about it.

---------

"SHUT THE FUCK UP NOW will you Swiss, I do not want to hear it-" Sodo crashed into the ghouls den, Swiss following right after him.

"NO I WILL NOT SHUT UP WHEN ARE YOU GONNA TELL THEM-"

"Tell who what?" Your voice rang out, stopping both Swiss and Sodo abruptly.

"Uhhhhhhh-" They both stood there, with their mouths open.

"Sodomostdefinitelyhasacrushonyoubuthe'stoodumbtosayitoutloudokayBYE-" Swiss ran out the room, just barely avoiding the ball of fire Sodo aimed at his head. Sodo cursed to himself, and tried looking anywhere but where you stood.

"You- You have a crush on.. me?" You whispered.

"Stupid Swiss, always sticking his nose in stuff where it doesn't belong- okay, yeah might as well get it out now, I do have a crush on you okay? I'll get over it in like a few weeks, it is not going to disrupt our friendship-" You gently grabbed his hand, and Sodo looked at your smiling face.

"I never thought someone as cool as you are would like me back honestly," You grinned and squeezed his hand. Sodo scoffed:

"What do you mean by that, you are literally the coolest person I know you idiot," Sodo booped you on the nose. You smiled and wrapped your arms around him, embracing him tightly. The moment was calm and peaceful, until-

"NOW KISS YOU IDIOTS-" was followed by some more screaming from Swiss, Sodo's fireball had finally hit its target. You giggled at the sight of Swiss running away with his helmet on fire, while Sodo grinned.

He gently brought your lips to his, capturing them in a gentle kiss. After a moment you pulled away, only to hear Swiss screaming at Rain and Rain trying to put out the fire. You both cracked up, and soon you were both rolling on the floor with laughter.

----------------

this has been rotting away in my drafts for like months now, but I finished it ayy go me

as always, thanks for reading <3

[wildpeachfarm]

this is meant lighthearted : instead of “all men are trash, women do no wrong” a secret third thing “PEOPLE suck in general”

as someone who grew up with an absent father who tried to make life difficult for my mother once she took him to court for child support for me and my siblings - ing…I grew up with a not nice view of older men BUT my grandpa was a big big influence in not making men a negative experience for us.

the recent shift of the last 4-5 years has been worrying. I used to liked jkr and could emphasize where she was coming from originally. but it was scary to see the gradual descent into where she is now and the stuff she is saying. Bc she is so far removed from what she originally stood for. It can happen to anyone, I even get worried if I’m on that slope sometimes. This whole situation had me second guessing myself bc I gave gnf time and believed in him. I had a moment when a few female creators made remarks (not from mc community) and I checked myself bc I was scared I was falling into the conservative rhetoric to blame women and protect men. Then I saw others who had more information and actually looked into it and also found this blog where the nuances were being discussed and let out a breath of relief that I was just using my critical thinking skills lmao

There are so many men out there who just aren’t given a chance bc society is set up for them to fall into a certain role. And I think a lot of men are trying to break that role and stereotypes. I became a dream fan bc I saw him doing this, saw a gamerboy in 2020 who was passionate and excelled at the game but didn’t fall into the toxicity of the space, actively fought against it.

and women should not be encouraged to drag men through hell bc they feel empowered by the rhetoric of recent years. women can and are just as selfish and shitty people as men. Sometimes they are worse

we’ve gone so far off center, we’ve essentially gone from one extreme to another. Which I learned two years ago was called terfs 😂 the movement needs to go back to its previous meaning. Feminism is not solely female empowerment it is the deconstructing of the patriarchal roles and belief that push men and women into boxes. Feminism, as I was taught over a decade ago, was the fight for women and MEN to be equal and have the same rights and opportunities. We can uplift women without putting down men. if this feminist movement doesn’t correct itself, it will allow more men like andrew tate to grow and influence young men.

The lack of female representation in the sphere cannot be corrected by women. It just can’t. Men need to be part of the change bc if the environment is not corrected, women cannot succeed and thrive. They can become successful but the hate and obstacles directed towards them is crazy. This is in general not just for streaming.

It can’t just be women solidarity, men need to learn and actively engage in calling out misogynist behavior. Women need to talk with their males friends and call them out when they say or act in disgusting ways. Women need to hold women accountable as well! It is unfair and unattainable to put female equality solely in the hands of women. We need to All work together.

Puffy is so good at this when she streams, especially on the smp. Hell, she even created a whole villain arc to call out the people telling her to “be a therapist to Tommy, omg your like dreams mom”. Puffy is awesome 🥹

men =/ bad

women =/ good

PREACH ANON

this breaks it all down so well and i really sympathize with you about having a poor view of some men in your life and trying to not let that influence your views but also not go so far off the other end that you end up blindly defending them without critical thinking.

Really important discussions and introspection about how your thought processes work that I think everyone should have at least once when situations like this come up

[niuniente]

I've been following your DHD since the beginning and I have loved it so incredibly much! I was so happy I finally found a comic where main character is single and not interested in dating, relationship etc. It's so hard for me to find such things (books, comics, TV shows, fanarts, you name it) since there's always a plot twist where main character ends up in a relationship anyway one way or another (side note: I've been single my whole long life, not interested in any of that stuff) so finding Alrick and you was a blessing! However, since Kizzie arrived and she started to have "hots on Alrick", I've start to lose joy and love towards DHD. Every update brings me fear and horrible anxiety Alrick will end up with Kizzie (she spreading her legs to him) and that would make me nope myself away from DHD. I adore you, love your arts and blog over all (you are too kind to this world), finding you has been the best thing in my life so, please please please, don't take this personally! You are wonderful person and I really like you! I just fear where DHD / Alrick is heading.

What I can say with 100% certainty is that Alrick will not get married. Or engaged. IF it's up to me, I mean, I didn't decide that Alrick starts to have a crush on someone. IF it was up to me only, there wouldn't be anything like that going on. An establish relationship to that sorts will not fit the story and it will take too much away from Alrick's own story. I do not wish his story to be too deeply linked into anyone else. DHD does require sort of a solo thing from Alrick. Yet, I can't really always control where the characters themselves want to go but I will do my best not to get Alrick TOO involved with anyone. DHD is not supposed to be a romance comic anyway.

And, like said, Alrick not interested in romance or such in general but it doesn't mean he couldn't have a crush on someone (which he clearly didn't expect).

I do encourage people to have fun with the ships because life's not that serious and a fictional story of mine is even less serious.

Love can appear in many, many forms, which I do not want to limit to just one form, not in art. Take this from someone who has been single for almost 20 years and haven't even hold anyone's hand during those two decades and who is childfree by choice and has no pets either. There's still love in my life and I love deeply even without a partner, kids or pets.

I hope this answers your concerns!

[misspearly1]

Hello so I was thinking dirty and-…yes how would Joel miller react when his s/o starts to push him against the wall randomly and start to kneel down and- I think you know the rest? XD

Hehehe. Ok, ok, I would love to write out the rest of your wonderful idea. Nonnie, I am always thinking dirty with this fine Texan man lmao, but this ask gave me an idea instantly, so enjoy the read my love and thank you for sending this into my blog <33

Surprise, Surprise.

Pairing: Joel Miller x you (F!Reader)

WC: 2k

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Established relationship. Oral, (Male receiving). Deep throating. Dirty Talk. Praise Kink.(Use of 'good girl'). Fluff. 

Joel looks over to you, concerned, for a third time in the short space of five minutes. She's too quiet, he says with his inner voice as he walks through the old, broken down streets surrounding the Jackson Community.

Your quietness today doesn't sit right with the man. Every so often you have these bouts of silence and usually it's nothing to be worried about; like you're just enjoying the peace and losing yourself in your thoughts, however today you're extra quiet and it doesn't just feel like nothing. It feels like something is bothering you.

Being your patrol partner and life partner for three years now, Joel has come to learn your body and mind like the back of his hand, sometimes even better than yourself, and he knows for certain that something is not right as he looks over to you again and sees the expression on your face. You’re deep in thought, as if you’re battling with something in that pretty little head of yours. 

“Alright.” Sighing softly and coming to a stop, Joel turns to face you and tilts his head slightly, as if he was playfully scolding you, though he had a warm smile on his lips. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He asks, cutting straight to the point. 

“What? Nothing, babe. Why would anything be wrong?” You retort quickly with a defensive tone, therefore solidifying Joel’s suspicions that you are not okay and something is definitely off. Crooking one eyebrow, you squirm under his glare and begin to fidget with your hands. Joel knows you too well, but what he doesn’t know is why you’re lying to him and not speaking your mind. 

“Darlin’, talk to me.” He moves closer and reaches out to cup the side of your face, the action making you hum. Leaning into his touch with your eyes closing briefly,  for a second there, Joel thinks it might have been nothing after all, just like it usually is, but you pull away from his touch and lie again. “Everything’s okay. It’s nothing.” 

As you turn to walk down the street again, Joel looks at the back of you with narrowed eyes. It seems as though you don’t want to share whatever it is that is bothering you and he doesn’t like to pry about these things, but three years into his relationship with you now, his patience wears thin for this type of stuff, therefore he follows you with a determination to get answers. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks. Catching up to your side again, he brings out an arm and lays it around your lower back, to which you squirm for a second time and shake his grip. “Nothing.” You snap back, but he caught you smiling and heard the amusement in your tone, which left him even more clueless.

Moving away from him quickly and ducking into a nearby store, it was as if you knew he was going to pry it out of you with more questions. The man shakes his head, glances up and down the street to make sure things are as they were before, which was empty, then follows you into the store too. Sensing an excitement in the air from the way your giggles echoed from the back of the store, he was in for quite the surprise as it was more than excitement in the air.  

Joel couldn’t see you right off the bat and moved further inside to locate you. It was a clothing store, filled with half empty racks and a whole array of litter, dirt and grime on the floor after two decades of desertion. Why you chose to play a childish game of hide and seek was lost on him, but he entertains your sudden playful mood nonetheless. 

“Y/N, what are we doing here, doll?” He asks in a chuckle. Stepping over a large piece of debris that fell down from the room, he makes his way over to the changing rooms after hearing you shuffle around. “This really isn’t like you, babe.” He laughs deeply while shaking his head. You’ve never done anything like this before, hence his confusion on why you decided to run away and hide from him. Sure, sometimes you sneak up on him in the house back in Jackson, but nothing to this extreme. 

It’s dangerous out here, infected still prowl the streets looking for their next meal and it’s apparent that you’re finding it fun to hide from him inside this store. Entering the changing rooms, he looks at the one door that is closed and shrugs with a small smile. “I don’t know what this is, babydoll, but I’d like to get back to our job.” He mutters while walking closer. 

Opening up the door and furrowing his brows at the empty room, Joel smirks when hearing your seductive voice from behind. “I’m right here, handsome.” You say, paying him a compliment that makes his cheeks blush, but suddenly the fog clears and he understands clearly what is wrong with you and why you decided to run away.  

As he turns around, your hands dart out to his chest and your lips are sealed over his before he could ask if you’re sexually frustrated. It’s quite evident that you are. Carefully pushing him backwards until he is met with the wall, you break off from the kiss and drop to your knees. The action made Joel’s eyes widen with shock. 

“B-Babe, what are you d-doing?” He stutters, then drops his gun with a gasp when your hands palm his natural bulge. “Jesus… Yer ran away just to do this?” He asks, balling both hands into fists as you pull his zipper open and release him. Your pleasurable touch vibrates through his body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

“I wanted an element of surprise.” You laugh and look up at him with big doe eyes. “Now shut up and let me suck your cock, Joel.” You smirk, loving the way his chest rises and falls quickly with each anticipated breath. Your words and actions clearly affected him, giving you the reactions you wanted most as he spreads his legs and plants his feet into the ground to give you more room. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you today bu- Oh fuck!” Tossing his head back with a broken grunt slipping past his lips, you cut him off by taking the tip of him inside your mouth then swirled your tongue around. Tasting the salty sweat with a deeply satisfied hum, Joel groans from the vibrations and darts his hands out to your shoulders. “Holy shit…” Releasing a long, heavy breath, he asks in a whimper. “Keep doing that, baby.” 

Closing his eyes to focus on the sensation and the noise of your mouth sucking on the head of his cock, it’s a sensitive area that you know how to use for his pleasure. Though, as much as Joel wants to relish in the feeling of you sucking him off, he wants to watch you too and therefore opens his eyes to look down at you. 

“Oh, darlin’ you’re gonna be the death of me.” He moans, seeing that you were already looking up at him as you slowly took him whole, right down to the base. You buried your nose into the hairs on his mound and rolled your eyes back, moaning around him like it was pleasure for you. 

Releasing him with an obscenely loud pop, you gasped for air as the saliva trailed down your chin, the sight of it driving the man up the wall. “Desperate, weren’t you?” Joel growls while cupping your cheek and smearing your spit across your lips as you nod. “Go ahead babydoll. Take what you need from me.” 

Smiling innocently, you bring two fingers up to your mouth and coat them before slipping your hand down your body, maintaining his eye contact. “Oh.” Joel raises his brows, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at what you were doing. After watching you slide your hand inside your pants, then hearing you moan when your fingers contact your clit, he tuts three times. “Dirty girl. Just can’t get enough can you.” 

“I can’t help it.” You shrug with a breathy moan, then lick along the prominent vein on the underside of his dick, drawing out a shuddering exhale from him. “I can’t help that my boyfriend is the sexiest man around.” You say with a smirk, watching the man bite his lip as his cheeks bloom a pretty crimson pink - again. Opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, you hold Joel’s line of sight when taking him whole for a second time. 

Eyes watering as you bury him deep inside your mouth, the head of his cock touching the back of your throat as you choke, your hands grip at his thighs before you pull back. “Take over for me.” You beg with a shameful tone, your voice laced with need. “Joel please - fuck my mouth.” 

“Well, since you said please, babydoll.” He mocks with a laugh, dark and sinister. Brushing the hair away from your eyes then bunching it up into a ponytail, Joel jerks his chin outwards and tells you to open your mouth for him, which you do eagerly, too eagerly. It should be considered disgraceful how subservient you are, though it really just comes down to trust. You trust Joel with your life, and you trust him to choke you with his cock. 

Gagging when he hits the back of your throat, you take a second to relax your jaw and catch your breath before humming around him, a little sign for him to keep doing. “Good girl, that’s it.” He praises while pulling his hips then shoving them forward again. The pace started slow and gradually picked up speed. The noises you made were disgusting, the sounds driving Joel over the edge as he loses himself. A mixture of his pre-cum and your saliva stains your chin, the substance practically drooling out of your mouth as he continues to fuck your throat. 

“Oh shit, baby.” He gasps sharply. Legs bent slightly at the knees, the man had abandoned your ponytail and placed two hands to the back of your head, slamming your face into his crotch. “I’m close, darlin’. You ready for me?” He asks, even though his pace is rough and harsh, merciless, he still has to ask, at least for his own reassurance. 

When you hum and manage a nod between his thrusts, Joel babbles through it like he’s high on drugs. “Shit! Darlin’, I’m cumming, I’m gonna cum down that pretty little throat. Fuck! And you’re gonna take it all. That’s it baby… There, there!” He yells, voice trembling as his whole body trembles shakily with his release. “That’s it Y/N, keep going baby. You’re doing so well.” Joel continues to praise you, though he is losing his mind right now, seeing stars while he releases rope after rope of cum, he can hear you loudly gulping it back, the sound of it just driving him insane. 

After feeling you pat his thigh twice, he pulls back quickly and the sound of you coughing brings the man down to his knees, instantly worrying it was too much. Eyes wet and reddened as you heave for air, your smirking smile makes him huff relief with a curt shake of his head. “You are something else, doll.” 

“Was a good blowjob though.” You wink, making him chuckle, and agree with a nod. Brushing the hair away from your eyes for a second time, he gazes at your beauty then smiles with pride and joy to have a lady like you. He leans in and kisses you on the lips, sampling the taste of his own seed on your tongue with a breathy groan. The kiss quickly became fervent, heated and passionate, clearly displaying the hunger he now has - a hunger you know all too well. 

“Your turn, baby.” Joel mumbles with a devilish smirk. 

Tagging:

Perma taglist(Everything): @marydjarin @kirsteng42 @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20 @harriedandharassed @joelmillerscoffee @joelsrifle @swtaura @alexxavicry @boliv-jenta @dragonsondragons @practicalghost

Joel Miller taglist: @extraneous-trip @readsalot73 @luvmeijii @pale-gingerale @joelsflannel @something-tofightfor @ponyofmilfmom @hb8301 @squidwell @spideysimpossiblegirl @mooraakath @michele131 @chxpsi @zeida @wordsfromshona @dins-cyare @maggiehelene @trickstersp8 @faceache111 @killergodessmm 

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Alright, here are some screenshots from the new iwtv s2 trailer and me theorizing over them like a rabid fangirl. Hafl meta, half madness.

ok, so this bit of dialogue here where they are talking about Daniel and the interview

Armand: He wants you in pieces for the privilege of putting them back together as he sees fit. Louis: It's his job. Armand: It's his drug. He's reveling in it. You should end it.

Is Armand bitter? Is this how he saw his and Daniel's relationship? If so he is big mad. Like, this man has had decades to stew in that post-breakup anger. Memory is a monster and all that. So he's had plenty of time to do that thing where people breakup, get pissed off, and only remember the bad times. We twist our own memory all the time, that's one of the ways people get past shit. So Armand has probably twisted what he and Daniel has. Because my boy does not handle rejection well.

Or maybe he is projecting? Messing with Louis' memories (which it seems like he did. though i do believe he thought he was helping Louis at the time. a monster in love is still a monster) could very well be putting him back as Armand sees fit. That's what he may believe he did to Louis. Though the definition of 'as he sees fit' could have multiple meanings. I think personally that Armand sees (or at least justifies) messing with Louis memories as for Louis own good.

Either way, he does not want Daniel poking into Louis' head.

this is just some loumand cuteness. look, Armand kisses Louis on the cheek. i think Armand is or was probably pretty affectionate when him and Louis were alone together. I remember that interview with Assad saying there was a tenderness to Louis and Armand's relationship. there's a whole bunch of cute little shots of them together. but they are hard to get a cleat shot of because they sort of fade into each other in the video.

like, i know in my heart the loumand breakup is coming this season. but i'm going to enjoy it while it lasts. bc this version of loumand has got me hooked. i have to confess, i was never really a big fan of loumand in the iwtv book. the whole claudia of it all ruined it for me. but i am so fascinated to see how these two made it work for 77 years.

and this. the way Claudia and Armand look at each other when they first spot each other. that quick second before the mask can slip into place. they do not like each other. they are enduring for Louis' sake. at least until he picks one of them.

then like a split second later, she has this tight smile on her face. my baby girl is not happy

look at their faces y'all. this is during Louis' 'life is shit' bit of dialogue. where he tells Claudia to stop feeling sorry for herself. he also says they 'can't be running away again' do they find other vampires before Paris? According to her diaries, they were in Romania in 1941. And Louis says something about they can't be the only 'good ones'

We also know they were in Paris, Nov 14 from Claudia's diaries. The interview is set in 2022. Louis mentions earlier in the clip him and Armand have been together 77 years. So they'd have to have gotten together in 1945. Given how quickly things happened in the book, I'd say they were probably only there a few months.

this has to be Allesandra. it has to be. I can't wait for this Armand backstory stuff.

y'all look at this fuckery. Santiago is kissing some woman while riding a motorcycle. idk if she is a victim or another vampire. and i think possibly the bike might be flying? I can't tell. It looks pretty cool though.

oh look, a scythe. i wonder what that could possibly be foreshadowing. they have to have the scene, the way they've shown a scythe in a few different teasers/trailers now.

this might be Madeliene, but I don't know. The hair doesn't fit what we've seen so far. my theory is that this is Madeleine's sister who dies via vampires. in the books she lost a daughter, and it was why she was so eager to play mother to Claudia. Having a child that could almost literally never die would have had to seem like, the greatest thing ever. switching it to a sister would be fitting, seeing as Claudia is playing the role of sister to Louis

So my thought here, (and I know I am theorizing based on nothing but vibes) is that Madeleine is looking into the vampires bc her sister went missing after going to a show at the Theatre des Vampires. And at some point, Claudia will reveal what they are to her.

That may be why she looked so scared in that other teaser we had. These pics are from it and they are blurry af, so sorry bout that

This could be the vampires warning her to mind her business. Why not kill her outright? Bc they like to play with their food. Or bc Claudia wants to keep her, and Armand knows he has to get Claudia out of the way to be with Louis. So he could just like, order the coven to not kill this one human. And then later 'convinces' Louis to turn her into a vampire, so Claudia will have her own companion and gtfo

like, i know it's hard to tell from this one shot, but Armand seems to be on the verge of having a full on tantrum. while saying Lestat's name over and over. Probably bc he heard how much Louis was talking about Lestat to Daniel. he's probably mad jelly, but like, in both directions.

look at this shit. Armand straight up hisses and pushes Lestat away with his vampire powers. (this I think is may not 1945 Paris, but around when they first meet. idk though)

this is how Lestat seemed to be dressed in the image above. and given the whole look of him (you know, in full health) i think this is around the time Lestat meets the Children of Satan

y'all I am screaming. this is Lestat drinking Armand's blood. did they fuck? did Lestat hit it and quit it?

At least Claudia gets to tell Louis off for picking Armand over her. But she definitely was not loving Paris.

as witnessed here, by Daniel reading from her journal "fuck these vampires"

so here we have Daniel saying he wants to get out alive (then we have him making this strange face where it looks like he wants to cry, another shot of Armand) while this other dude says that Daniel fears Armand and that he should fear the other one. Who tf is this guy? Are they still in the penthouse? Did Daniel leave and go out somewhere to meet this guy? Who is this man? Maybe another vampire that paid a visit? Is he this Leonard guy we've heard about? bc that does not look like David Costabile, but tv hair and makeup can perform magic, so maybe it is?

here we have Louis throwing his cup of blood at a painting. it's ok baby boy, you are entitled to a hissy fit every now and again

Here we have Louis hallucinating Lestat, so that's fun.

And now bitch ass tumblr says I can't post anymore images, but i am only halfway through the trailer. so I guess i will post and reblog

[bulkhummus]

I'm so glad you asked! (cw for discussions about unreality)

A. It's been a minute since we had an actual villain. Most bad guys/conflicts get resolved in an episode or two, and it seems like Janet Lubelle and the University are here to stay. She is being worked into everyday life on the show and is directly effecting the narrative every episode. You can't ignore her actions because they're encroaching upon the town. It's new! It's different! And most of all, it's a villain that I can envision coming to a small town and disrupting the status quo < more on that later.

B. Stories get boring when there are no stakes. Welcome to Night Vale is known for its unconventional plot structure (ie. vague continuity and plot from episode to episode lol) because it supports the happenings that are occurring in the show. A problem with this structure can be the inability to create tension or suspense, or have choices mean something within a narrative. I'm so happy to listen to the comings and goings of my little favorite podcast town, and I genuinely enjoy the silly episodes, don't get me wrong, but it's not fun for a writer or a listener when the same stuff happens over and over and everything is resolved and happy. The mini arcs they write are amazing. The time to build up the space around them is equally interesting. Conflict is interesting. Drama is interesting. Making smart choices that hold weight/ value to them is interesting, and the show would not still be running if the writers were unable to create that impact in spite of a more freeform narrative structure. Why isn't Carlos helping? Why is Lubelle so concerned with doubles? How is this all placing strain on Cecil's relationship to his husband and his town?

C. The show has been running for 10 years and they are cashing in on that time and commitment. The impact of Carlos' backstory after all this time (equal, might I add, to his time in the DOW) is immense. The killing of characters we have loved for over a decade is harsh and feels unfair and heart breaking. Patterns we are accustomed to in the show are being altered. Things we have been led to believe are changing before us, and it's almost like we are experiencing them and these feelings in real time with the townspeople of Night Vale. We watched a love story centered around the fact that a man was new to town, and we, along with the town, were tricked into thinking not all strangers are there to do harm, until it was too late. There has never been a villain that has been sustained for this long without turning into a joke (ie. Huntokar, The Distant Prince, etc.) other than maybe Strex, and even that was not so encroaching upon every show. Suspense is building, who or what will be explained away next? What will that mean for the town and for the story?

D. Lubelle is a fucking villain. I have seen a few people say they dislike her character and while I respect that this post is about why I love her haha so stay with me there. You aren't supposed to like her, but not liking a character is different from thinking the character doesn't do anything for the story. She is endlessly interesting to me because of what she represents. She has stated her intentions, clear and clean and is operating under her own moral code. That's such a tasty place to be narratively speaking. So far, she is a well written villain. Not to mention her past relationship with Carlos not even being touched yet, and that whole can of worms ( the only thing being the implication that Carlos used to be her right hand man). To me, the best kind of villain is the one who truly believes they aren't doing anything wrong. She is cold, she is condescending and she is out to do her fucking job, and no one is going to get in her way. She is not there to take over the town, or end the world. She is there to explain things. That is her motivator, and she is literally feeding off of the town. She is the embodiment of normalization, of conformity, of categorization. She is looking at something that is weird and unexplainable, a big gray area, and demanding black and white terms from it. Maybe it's just the queer in me, and the queerness that is Night Vale, but god isn't that horrifying?

E. The characters and dynamics Lubelle is explaining away are still leading to more questions. The monstrous Station Management is no longer a horrifying monster behind closed doors, but we are left wondering just who has been managing the station for all these years (40 years, from 1983 to be exact lol they're so good for this one) if no one was ever in the office to begin with. There are layers to the unreality that is occurring in Night Vale. Time is still weird. They are still sectioned off in some way. Cecil is still caught amongst these intersecting time frames and realities. Shit is still weird. Not to mention Lubelle being there is coinciding with doubles, Cecils parents and childhood, Carlos' backstory, and time/reality weirdness. It's also so DENSE right now and I'm loving it. How is she gonna effect all that? Is she gonna propel any of it?????? She is as much of a tool to spur the stories onward as she is to disrupt them.

F. Cecil is being directly effected. Do you understand what it means to question the narrator? It's so easy to forget that Cecil is an unreliable narrator because we don't often hear other townspeople question him. Janet looked directly at Cecil and told him that he is disturbed, that his reality is fractured. We as listeners all know that, and Cecil sure as hell does, but he does his very best to avoid it. One of the main new sources in town, and the narrator of a show we let tell us biased opinions and stories as fact, is suddenly ripped out from beneath us like a cheap rug. His credibly is at stake here and this began the moment people started questioning why Carlos wasn't speaking out against the University.

G. She's so fucking hot. this arc and its potential is so. so so fun.